


steal the air out of my lungs

by cosmicocean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Multi, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Roadhouse in Heaven (Supernatural), also charlie and meg in heaven are a couple, this has background saileen, which i'm not gonna lie threw me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicocean/pseuds/cosmicocean
Summary: “He doesn’t blame me. And he’s looking forwards to when he gets to see Sam again. I think he misses you,” he adds thoughtfully. Castiel’s stomach drops down to his feet. “He didn’t say it. But he looked a little. I dunno, wistful? He was happy to know that you were okay.”“I’m.” He clears his throat. “I miss him, too.”“This seems very easy.”“It’s… not.”“You have been around longer than I have.” The leaves start shifting back to green, a brighter shade than they previously were. “But Meg has also been around for a while and she says you’re both emotionally constipated.”Castiel wakes up in Heaven, and figures out where to go from there.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Meg Masters
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	steal the air out of my lungs

**Author's Note:**

> READ FIRST! This fic is almost entirely canon compliant with the finale. The only thing I changed was making Blurry Wife Eileen and that Dean doesn't drive around the entirety of Sam's life in Heaven. Everything else, the death, John, Cas staying in Heaven, everything, is as it was in the finale. If you don't want to read that, I totally understand! The finale sucked. Just letting y'all know what you're getting into. I also have not seen the entirety of this show, so please brace for what I presume are some narrative inconsistencies.

Castiel blinks, and in the act of blinking, recognizes that he has awareness once more.

It’s a dizzying experience. He attempts to piece things together. He remembers Dean’s face being the last thing he saw, even if it was heartbroken and alone. He remembers the sensation of the Empty swallowing him up. And then…

and then he was here.

He looks around the antiseptic white room, all grays and flat opaque windows, and his stomach plummets. _Heaven._ They must have lost. He wonders where Sam and Dean are, where Jack is, what Chuck could have possibly pulled him out of the Empty for-

“Hello.”

Castiel spins on his heel to see Jack standing, raising a hand with a smile on his face.

Normally, Castiel would be suspicious that this is a trick somehow brought on by Chuck but it is undeniably Jack. He knows it in his bones, in his Grace, is absolutely positive that this can be no one other than his son, and the relief of it makes him sag.

“Jack.”

Jack walks towards him and holds out his arms. Castiel almost collapses into a hug and feels Jack squeeze him tightly, and he wonders exactly how long he’s been gone, and what exactly happened.

“It’s good to see you.” Jack pulls back. “I was upset when I heard you died.”

“When you… yes. Yes.” Castiel looks around again. “Jack, what _happened,_ what is-“ he looks back at him and realizes, for the first time, that there is something Different about his son. He holds himself the same as he ever did, smiles just as he always has, but there’s something inside him. Like his skin is faintly glowing. “What’s happened to you?”

“I’m different now. Still me,” he adds hastily, looking a little worried. “Just different. But still me.”

“I didn’t doubt that you weren’t you.”

He relaxes a little. “Oh, good. Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

Castiel is struck by a sudden, horrifying thought and he grabs at Jack’s arm. “Jack, are _you_ dead?”

A peculiar look crosses Jack’s face. “You know, I don’t know if I can be.” He tugs on Castiel’s elbow. “Come on.”

Abruptly, they’re in a park and Castiel blinks, looking around. The park has a little pond. Birds. A swingset.

“We went to this park,” Castiel says slowly. “On the way back from a hunt. Dean needed to get something looked at on the car so we wandered over here with ice cream. You and Dean got into a whole… thing about who could go higher on the swings.”

“Yes. You and Sam sat here on the bench while Sam heckled Dean.” Jack holds out a strawberry ice cream to Castiel. “I think you enjoyed yourself.”

Castiel had. He had even observed how much weaker Dean’s form seemed to be than Jack’s, prompting a _DUDE!_ from Dean and a delighted cackle from Sam. It had been a normal moment in the middle of their chaotic lives, something soft that he’s always kept close to his heart. “This wasn’t here before.”

“No. I built it. I’ve been thinking about building.” He sits next to Castiel, holding a chocolate ice cream of his own. “I’d like you to help me, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Help you what?”

“Rebuild Heaven. No more walls. No more being trapped. Anyone can go wherever they’d like. I think that’s only right.”

Castiel stares at him.

“And you can…” he says slowly, putting some things together. “Do that?”

“With help.” Jack shrugs, kind of bashful. “I also just… would like to do something with you.”

“Are Sam and Dean… up here?”

“No. They’re down there. Dean may have kidnapped a dog.”

Castiel feels a surge of relief. He feels like he must have known. It’s hard to picture a world where he isn’t alive. “Good for him.”

He looks out across the park. This day, it started raining, one of those thunderstorms that comes out of nowhere. They’d all run back to the overhang on the ice cream shop, Dean chanting “shit shit shit shit shit” as they went, everyone’s jackets pulled up over their heads. Even Castiel had done the same, unwilling to waste the energy on drying himself off once they reached a place with cover. Sam had told Dean to have the good sense to not shake himself like a dog once they reached the overhang. Dean had done so just to stick it to Sam and ruffled Jack’s hair, laughing when it stuck up all at ends.

He had loved him, there. He had known he loved him for some time, and he had watched Dean messing with his brother, interacting with his son with joy, and right in that moment, he had been acutely aware of that love.

“Your strawberry’s melting,” Jack says, already near finished with his.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” Castiel takes a bite out of his ice cream. “I’m thinking about thunder.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

“I’m thinking about how people… fear it. Because the lightning comes after. But it’s not really about the lightning. The ground becomes softer than it was before, the lakes fill. Flowers bloom. Thunder isn’t about lightning or rain. It’s about change.” He looks over at Jack. “People don’t like change, Jack.”

“They’ll like this change.” Jack pauses, lowering his ice cream. “Do you think it’s selfish of me to go and see my mother first?”

Castiel smiles. “I think you’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met, Jack.”

“That’s nice to hear. Thank you.” Jack looks at him. “The angels that are left don’t want to fight anymore, Castiel. I think everybody’s tired of it.”

Castiel makes a noncommittal noise, more than ready to stand over Jack’s shoulder and glower if that’s what it comes to.

“So I think we should rebuild. Give people the tools to make their heavens what they want them to be. Tear down the walls. It just requires… restructuring.” Jack looks at him. “I’d like you to stay.”

Castiel takes another bite of his ice cream.

“Sam and Dean don’t know I’m back.”  
“No. Not yet.”

“Are they… okay?” Jack hesitates and Castiel sighs. “Jack-“

“Sam is texting Eileen every single chance he gets,” he says. “Dean has been extensively texting with Charlie and is surreptitiously browsing positions for a mechanic. They’re not okay. But they’re coping better than they were a week ago.”

 _Extensively texting with Charlie_ is something. Castiel worries about how much Dean feels the need to self-isolate after something traumatic, how prone he is to pushing people away. If he’s reaching out to Charlie, that’s good news.

“I’m trying a… hands-off approach. I’m restoring things to how they should have been and then I’m stepping back.”

“What did you reset?”

Jack shrugs. “I need more help rebuilding Heaven. There’s not enough angels left. I brought some people back. I don’t.” He stops and starts again. “I would never tell you that you couldn’t go back, Castiel. I’m just asking you to… stay for a little while. Time moves different in Heaven. It wouldn’t be more than three weeks for them. Maybe a month, at most.”

Castiel looks down.

“I don’t know if I can leave them alone like this,” he whispers.

“I know. It’s not long. I’m-“ Jack’s voice wavers. “I have… all this power, Cas, and I don’t know what to do with it. I’m on my own. And I don’t know who to talk to about it. I just need help.”

Castiel takes a breath, something he doesn’t have to do anymore but had gotten used to tying his emotions to.

He wants to go back to see Sam and Dean so badly it aches, but this isn’t several years ago anymore, when it was just the three of them, when it was just their lives.

Jack comes first. Jack will _always_ come first.

“Then I’ll help,” Castiel says, and Jack beams, looking relieved.

“It won’t be long,” he says. “Just a few weeks, and then I think I’ll have the ropes enough. Tell me what I need to do.”

“I don’t know everything.” Castiel stands and offers Jack a hand to help him up. “But hopefully I know enough.”

“How do I do that?” Jack asks, watching in fascination.

“It’s not hard.” Castiel stands in the clearing in the middle of the woods. “Look.” He reaches up and a piece of the sky peels down, revealing inky black with stars swirling behind it. “Try it.”

Jack reaches up and tugs, and another piece comes down. “So you just keep pulling?”

“You just keep pulling.”

Slowly, Jack and Castiel pull down the wall until standing in front of them is the void of space.

“Now what?”

Castiel reaches over and sweeps his hand, and with the sweep the air shimmers and suddenly looks just like it had before.

“The wall’s not there anymore,” Jack whispers, fascinated. “I just-“ he makes the same motion with his hand. “Like that?”

“Just like that,” Castiel confirms. “Do you have everybody you need?”

“Most everybody. Why?”

“I have a suggestion for someone who could be helpful, even if they can’t do the rebuilding.” Castiel stands back. “Would you like me to help you?”

Jack smiles. “There’s someone you want to see. You can tear the wall down there. Let me know who it is you want and I’ll… say goodbye for now.”

Castiel stands at the door to this particular heaven for a couple minutes before he steels himself and opens the door.

Mary Winchester is sitting on the stoop to the house from Lawrence, Kansas in a button down shirt, jeans, and a denim jacket, and is watching him fondly.

“Hello, Mary,” he says, feeling oddly relieved looking at her.

“Hey, Cas.” She stands up and the two of them walk forwards to meet in a hug.

“I’m sorry about the way it ended,” he says quietly.

“It’s not your fault. But I know.” They release each other and Mary looks around. “So, tearing down the walls, huh?” She grins at his expression. “Jack stopped by before you did. He had some apologies of his own he wanted to make.”

“We want people to build their own Heavens.” Castiel looks around. “Give them their own space.”

“I think we’d like that.” She sticks her hands in her pockets. “This is the house where I died. I don’t really want to stay in it.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.”

The door opens and John comes jogging out of it. He smiles at Castiel, holding out a hand.

“I don’t think we ever properly met. I’m John.”

“Hello.” He shakes his head. “I’m Castiel.”

Castiel does not like John Winchester. He will _never_ like John Winchester. As far as Castiel is concerned, John is here mostly on a technicality. But Dean and Sam will arrive one day, and when they see him ( _if Dean wants to see him_ , Castiel thinks, a thought too painful to dwell on for too long) they will no doubt want him to be polite. So he will be polite.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for my boys.”

“It was my pleasure.”

John nods his head back to the house. “I’m gonna go work on the plans for the new house, I just wanted to say hello.”

“I’m gonna stay here with Cas while he works on the walls.”

“It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” John gives him a little wave and heads back into the house. Castiel turns to start pulling down one of the walls when he sees Mary looking at him with a vaguely amused look on her face.

“What?”

“You know,” she says, coming up to stand next to him. “The boys forgave John.”

“Yes. I heard.” Castiel pulls down another chunk of wall and watches as it vanishes into nothing. “I’m doing my best, Mary.” To be polite. He has no interest in doing his best to like John Winchester.

“I know.” Mary watches as another piece of wall comes down. “If there’s anything I know, Cas, it’s that you’re always doing your best.”

“Hey!”

Castiel jumps at the shout and turns around from the wall he’s working on, blinking.

Meg is standing there, glowering at him, leaning against a cane. Her hair is brown again, and he’s as he remembers her before Crowley had been torturing her, black leather jacket over a purple shirt.

He grins, unable to tamp down the happiness he feels on seeing her. It’s been quite some time. “Meg.”

She doesn’t stop glowering, the suspicion plain on her face.

“What gives?” she demands.

“What?”

“What is this?”

“It’s.” Castiel looks around, a little perturbed at the question. It feels like it’s obvious. “It’s Heaven.”

Meg’s eyes narrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“Because _I’m_ here, dumbass.”

“Maybe you’re supposed to be here.”

“I’m going to sock you, Feathers.”

Castiel frowns. “Seems unfair.”

“Where am I?”

“Can.” Castiel looks back at the wall of Heaven that is half torn, inky blackness swirling with stars. “Can I finish the wall?”

Meg squints at him.

“Yes,” she finally says. “But I’m gonna stand here the whole time.”

“That’s fine.”

She watches him tear down the wall, coming to stand next to him. “How does it work?”

“I tear it down. I sweep it over. People can move freely.”

“Hm.” She sticks her free hand in her pocket. “No more prisons, huh?”

“Yes.” Castiel reaches out and tears another hunk off.

“So. You were dead.”

“Yes. So were you.”

“I’m still dead. I don’t remember any of it.”

“No, me neither. Jack offered to remind me of it, but I declined.”

“I do know that bitch stole my face,” she mutters.

“It was depressing and not depressing.” Castiel stands on his tip toes, looking at the wall that’s been torn down, and sweeps his arm. The woods rebuilds itself as though it’s been wiped clean, and the wall is gone. “It was unpleasant to see your visage being used so but it was pleasant to see your face.” He turns to her. “Would you like to sit down?”

Meg eyes him suspiciously, a slight tilt to her lips. “Sure.”

They walk to the park bench that now sits by the woods, looking out at the rolling green hills, Meg resting her cane against the side of the bench.

“I felt you were owed certain considerations,” Castiel settles in, looking around.”You weren’t who you were when you met Sam and Dean. You were somebody else. You died for us.”

“Lots of people die for the Winchesters.” Meg folds her arms. “What makes me different?”

“The difference is you went to the Empty and you didn’t come here. You’d earned your place here and couldn’t. And, well. I could do something about you.”

They sit in silence.

“Demons don’t belong in Heaven,” she says finally.

“I’m not sure I do either, to be honest with you.” He can hear the twittering of birds from the trees behind them. “But I’m here. And you’re here. So we may as well figure out what to do with ourselves.”

“But you’re not staying.” Meg stretches out her legs. “You’re going back to the _News of the World_ robot and your dewy eyed Sword of Michael.”

“Yes, soon. But I’ll come back here someday.” Castiel looks around. “We’re rebuilding Heaven but we’re short on angels. Might make us sloppy. I thought it might be good to have someone patrol Heaven for a little while. See if we’d left any bits of the walls up or accidentally left some holes. You have an eye for detail, if I remember correctly.”

Meg leans forwards a little, resting her legs on her knees, looking amused.

“Castiel,” she says, lips tilted up and twisted into that clever smile he remembers from so long ago. “Did you have me sprung from the Empty on a _technicality?_ ”

Castiel leans forwards a little himself with a smile.

“I have no issues with certain technicalities,” he answers.

She grins, looking straight ahead. “Surprised angels want a demon checking their borders. What if I let the other demons in?”

“Well, first of all, you’re not _really_ a demon anymore. You’re just… something. Second of all, I trust you. Jack trusts you.”

“Because you say I’m trustworthy.”

“Yes.”

“And if I prove you wrong?”

“We can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Meg makes a _hm_ noise. “I gotta tell you, I don’t even really know what I’d do here.”

“No. I don’t, either.” He’ll only return once Dean’s time has come, if Dean will have him back. Home is, Castiel had learned quite some time ago, wherever Dean is, even when he has been forced to leave it. “But I suppose I’m going to figure it out.”

Meg nods slowly, then bumps her knee into his. “Thanks, Clarence.”

He bumps his own back fondly. “No problem, Meg.”

The park is where they spend the bulk of their time together, and when Castiel arrives Jack is sitting on the swings, idly looking up at the sky.

“I like Meg,” he says when Castiel sits on the swing next to him. “She’s mean but she’s funny.”

“I think she’d like that description.” Castiel looks around. “Where is this?”

“This is part of my heaven. I haven’t really… fully tinkered with it. It feels a little silly for me to have a heaven.” He shrugs. “But sometimes I need someplace to go.”

“I don’t think it’s silly for you to have a heaven.”

Jack kicks his feet a little against the ground.

“Do you think I’m doing a good job?” he asks.

“Yes,” Castiel answers immediately.

Jack looks at him now, squinting.

“Are you saying that just because I’m your son?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you were just saying that because-“

Most days Castiel is enormously proud of and delighted in the amount that Sam and Dean have instilled in Jack, and some days he thinks there is entirely too much Winchester in him. “Jack. You’re doing a good job.”

“How do you tell?”

“Well.” Castiel stretches his legs out. “People are happy, aren’t they? The people you’ve met here?”

“Yes.”

“And the angels are happy?”

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t caused any apocalypses or the like on Earth?”

“No.”

“Then you’re doing well.”

Jack leans back. “What if the angels are just _pretending_ to be happy? What if they want to kill me?”

 _Then I smite them,_ Castiel thinks. _Then I throw them into the Empty with my bare hands. I make sure laying a hand on my son is the last thing they do._ “Well, in my experience with the angels I’ve known that have rebelled, it’s probably an even stronger sign you’re doing well.”

Jack looks a little amused. “You rebelled.”

“Case in point.” Castiel puts a hand on his shoulder. “I would tell you if I saw signs of concern, Jack. But I don’t see anything. I see you, as you’ve always been.” Jack gives him a very quiet little look. “What?”

He reschools his expression to something that tries to look very innocent. “Nothing.”

Even if he wasn’t a rotten liar, he would be easy for Castiel to read. “It’s not nothing.”

Jack looks at the ground. “It’s nothing.”

“You don’t have to tell me. But it’s bothering you. So I want to help.”

“It’s not fair to ask you.”

“You can ask me anything you want."

He opens his mouth and closes it.

“Would you do something to stop me?” he asks. “If I went bad?”

“Of course.”

“No, would you.” He swallows. “Would you do what. What was necessary? If it had to be done?”

Castiel’s stomach flips and he stares at Jack, knowing full well the answer he’s looking for.

“Are you asking me to?” he whispers.

“I… yes. I am.”

Castiel takes a long breath and looks at the tree in the little park, the one his son built because of the one good day they had here.

Jack would never. He won’t. He wouldn’t. Castiel can’t make that promise.

But he’s _afraid._ He’s afraid and he’s lost and he’s asking Castiel for help.

“Jack,” he says quietly.

“You don’t have to say yes.”

“You want me to.”

“I don’t… trust anyone up here, yet. Just you and Mom. And Mom can’t do it.”

Castiel thinks about how he once told Sam and Dean that he was always happy to bleed for the Winchesters, and how Jack had considered himself so proud to be one. Years will pass, and some of the big things will change, and some of the big things will stay the same.

“Whatever you need me to do,” he manages hoarsely. “I will do.”

Jack watches him.

“Stand up, please,” he says, standing himself. Castiel does, feeling much wearier than he did when he sat down, and Jack pulls him into a hug. He rests a hand on the back of his head, trying to just think about how this will make Jack feel better, how one of the most important things in any world is that Jack feels okay.

“Thanks, Cas,” he whispers.

“Whatever you need.” Castiel squeezes him tightly. “Whatever you need.”

Mostly Castiel works on building little cities, big cities, great expanses of woods. He and Jack work together sometimes, and sometimes he helps Meg inspect where the walls were, which is mostly an excuse to walk around with Meg. He keeps himself busy, tries not to think about anything, like the look on Dean’s face before he was pulled away, or the vulnerability of the confession he had left hanging out there. It’s better to build a skyscraper than it is to think too much about it.

One day, Castiel is building a collection of cabins when he hears a voice, clear as day.

_Hey! Castiel who art in Heaven! Come here, I wanna hang out!_

Castiel blinks, confused, takes a step towards the voice, and finds himself in a diner. The diner is mostly empty (a recent build, he thinks, probably something from Balthazar, who finds them quaint), but there’s a familiar redhead who’s sitting in a booth, who grins when she sees him.

“Wow,” Charlie says. “I can’t believe that worked. That’s crazy.”

Castiel grins back. “Charlie.”

She stands and wraps him in a tight hug. He resists the urge to lift her off her feet a little, even though he thinks she wouldn’t mind. She pulls back and beams.

“Look at you! You got older.”

“Yes, I’ve been informed that’s how it works.”

“I’m gonna sit down and get some food. Do you eat?”

“I don’t have to but I enjoy it from time to time.”

“That’s how I feel about it.” Charlie sits and Castiel sits across from her. “I gotta tell you, man, it’s nice to be back out with some breathing room.”

“Where were you before?”

“Oh, I, uh, had a couple spots. One was when Sam and Dean and I were in Moondor and it was just… nice, you know? I mean, scary. But the other was, uh. One time when I came to see Dean and Sam, Sam was out on a job and he didn’t get back until late, so it was just Dean and I and we… had a really nice day. We hung out in the Bunker, we made cookies, we, uh, we danced around to She’s So Cold when he had his vinyl player going. It was… one of the best days of my life.” She shrugs awkwardly, looking down at her chocolate milkshake. “I never really had a family before I met the Winchesters.”

“Yes.” Castiel reaches out and takes a menu. “I am… familiar with the sensation.”

“I’ve liked meeting their friends. I like Meg. She seems… sexy.”

“I… think that would probably be ill advised on both your parts.”

“You’re way too uptight. What are you gonna get to eat?” She swirls the straw in her milkshake. “You give me fancy vibes.”

He gives her an amused look. “When do you assume that I would have been anyplace ‘fancy’ to eat?”

“That’s true. The nicest place you probably ever ate with Sam and Dean was an upscale Wendy’s.” Charlie grins at him. “You do those air quotes _real_ fast, huh?”

“Yes, so I’ve been told.” Castiel peruses the menu. “I’m pleased you’re going to find your real Heaven.”

“Oh my god, I’ll be making regular stops here because the food’s _insane._ I mean, I guess the food’s gonna be insane everywhere here.” Charlie looks down at the Belgian waffle with strawberries and a side of bacon that’s just appeared in front of her. “I dunno what Heaven looks like for me yet. I guess that’s part of the fun of it though, right?”

“I would assume.”

“You don’t have a heaven?”

“I’m not staying.” Castiel takes a fork and pulls his French toast with sausage towards him. “I’m returning to Earth as soon as I’ve finished here. Shortly, I hope.”

“Right. Back to Dean.” Charlie dips a French fry from the plate of them that’s suddenly appeared into her milkshake. “End of the world do anything to get one of you to talk about it?”

Castiel pauses, giving her a look. Charlie gazes right back, looking supremely unconcerned.

He supposes he’s never been anything other than obvious, it’s simply that Dean never noticed.

“I may have made an indication,” he says finally.

“ _Did_ you?” She leans in. “How did it go?”

“I was… immediately sucked into the Empty on doing so.”

Charlies gapes, then snorts. “So you did it when you absolutely wouldn’t have to face any consequences, huh?”

“I.” He frowns. “That was not the intention.”

“But it works out pretty well for you.” Castiel squints but she keeps going anyway. “Are you gonna bring it up to him again when you see him?”

“…eventually, yes, I will.”

“ _Eventually._ ” She points at him with a fry. “I did my best for you, you know. When Dean first told me about you I suggested you were dreamy based on the way he talked about you and I thought that the fact that I was a lesbian would give him a clue but I didn’t bank on what a dumbass he was.”

There’s a lot to unpack there. “I. Dean isn’t a dumbass.”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s my brother and I love him but he’s a dumbass. Not as big a dumbass as you, evidently, cause you just confessed your undying love-“

“I wouldn’t exactly-“

“To Dean after however many years and did it in a way that meant you wouldn’t have to ever discuss it.”

Castiel glowers. “You vex me.”

“I’m a vexing lady.” She takes a bite out of her fry. “You know, if you stayed here, you wouldn’t have to deal with it for another like forty years.”

“Time moves differently here. But yes, I see your point.” Castiel cuts into his sausage. “I can’t be on a plane of existence different than Dean’s for too long.”

Charlie’s face does something where her eyes go wide and her face drops a little. “Aw.”

Castiel feels his cheeks burn. A little more than he meant to say. He’s forgotten how to do social interaction to a certain extent that isn’t Jack. “I.” He looks down at the food. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, if you started saying shit like that just a few years earlier-“

“Tell me,” Castiel says, summoning a reservoir of infinite patience. “About _your_ ideal heaven, Charlie.”

Charlie grins. “Well, for one thing, there’s no avoiding or changing topics in _my_ heaven.”

“Sounds nice for you.”

“I am thinking about a city, though? I like the idea of skyscrapers.”

Castiel is checking on a plot he has staked out and taken care of as carefully as possible.

It’s just grass, which is exactly how it should be. But he maintains it. Keeps coming back to make sure. He checks on Sam’s once a day, but he checks this one several times a day, just to be sure.

“Don’t want to tinker with it?” Meg asks, one hand in her pocket as she watches.

“I can’t.” Castiel surveys the plot, arms folded. “That’s part of the point. Not Sam’s, though.”

“You know him better than anybody, you know.”

Castiel isn’t sure that’s true but lets it go. “Sam and Dean have had their lives mapped out for them by Chuck. They feel like they were… rats in a maze. Like they never had any choices. So I can’t make any choices for them about what their heaven looks like. Jack and I know they don’t want to be in a city, so we won’t drop them in a city, but make sure they know they have the choice to go to one, if they want. Whatever they want.” The plot looks alright, just as he knew it would, but needed to check in on anyway. “They can go wherever they want, do whatever they want, build whatever they want.”

Meg looks amused. “Aw, Clarence, I think Dean’s not gonna wanna go anywhere you aren’t.”

“That’s.” A nice sentiment, but perhaps incorrect. “Okay.”

Meg looks over it it. “What do you think he’ll build?”

Castiel thinks it over.

“A farmhouse,” he says finally. “With a nice lawn, on a hill. A lake where he can fish. House big enough that if anyone wants to come over and stay, they can. A good kitchen. Plenty of windows. Probably a garage for the car, he likes to protect her from the elements when he can.”

Meg grins. “There’s no elements he can’t control out here.”

“I… think he’d like it, anyway.” Dean had been so pleased when they’d found the Bunker that there was a place to put the car, and Castiel thinks it was probably what he’d envisioned a stable home to be like- somewhere where there was a place for your car. “Plenty of space in the garage for tools because even if she won’t need maintenance here it calms him down to do it. Probably a big backyard for people being over. I think… he’d like to have people over.”

“Wow, it sounds like you don’t know him at all.”

“It’s just little things.”

“I doubt he’d mind if _you_ were the one to build it.”

Castiel turns to her. “Did you come just to annoy me?”

“Usually. I like annoying you. Your wings get all flustered.”

“You can’t see my wings.”

“I don’t have to for me to know they’re flustered.” She punches him in the arm. “But today it’s cause I want tacos. You’re not paying me to wander through heaven, so you’re buying.”

“We don’t have any need of money up here.”

“You have no spirit, Feathers.”

Castiel is building a city. He likes building cities. He had always felt a certain sense of wonder being in them, the ability to watch humanity at its finest, simply… being humanity. He carefully lays sidewalks, builds house, places fire hydrants just so.

He’s sculpting a library today. He likes libraries. Humanity craves knowledge so badly that they build monuments to hold them. Sometimes he and Jack do this together, Castiel musing on the things he likes about people and Jack adding input or asking questions, but today it’s just him. The stone works up easy, and he sets to work on the stained glass windows he thought would be nice for it. First he will construct them from the outside, and then he will look at them from the inside to see if they’re just right.

Something knocks Castiel square in the chest and every piece of glass in the windows falls straight down and shatters, a halo around the library. He stares in horror, unseeing.

It can’t be.

He feels himself collapse, falling to his knees in an empty city, the pavement hard against his knees.

Years ago that feels like eons, Castiel had once pulled a man out of hell and called above _Dean Winchester is saved._

How could he not know when he was dying?

Castiel manages to push himself to his feet and surges his energy into taking one step, landing in the park, staggering a little. Jack has a hand gripping the swingset, looking winded, face wet. The park is cloudy with threats of a thunderstorm as he stares at Castiel.

“Jack,” he chokes.

“Castiel. I didn’t- I didn’t think…” He swallows. “I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“You have to.” He stumbles forwards a few steps. “Jack, you have to fix it.”

“I- I-“

“It’s been _three weeks._ It’s not, it’s not _fair_. You can fix it, he’s not. You have to _fix_ it.”

Jack is frozen, eyes wide. “I. I _can’t._ ”

“You can. Yes, you can. It’s not too late. It’s not over yet. You can do something. You _have_ to do something.”

“I can’t _._ ”

“Jack.” Castiel can barely see straight for the panic that’s gripped him. “Jack, he’s going to _die_. He’s going to _die_ and it’s not _fair_. But there’s still time to do something, we _have_ to do something.”

“I _can’t._ I can’t.”

“Why _not?_ ” Castiel takes another few steps. “You have that power, I _know_ you do, it won’t be hard, I can help you, we can do it together-“

“I _can’t._ ” The words are ripped out of him. “Castiel, I can’t because it’s the _line._ ”

He blinks. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I.” He looks down at his hands. “I have all this _power_ , and I’m so _scared,_ I’m so _scared_ to use it, all the time, because I don’t want to be _him_ , I don’t want to be like Chuck, and I don’t know what to do and I’m trying _so hard_ to do this right, I’m trying _so hard_ , and I can’t, I can’t do it because it’s the line, if I do this once I’ll do it again, I’ll just cross that line over and over again and then I’m _him_ and I want to _so bad_ and I feel _so guilty_ about it, all of it, that I won’t do it and that I want to do it-“ He’s crying harder now. “I can’t save the people I love because it’ll make me into a monster and if I can’t use this power then what’s even the point of _having_ it, Cas, I’m just-“

Castiel closes the last few steps and pulls Jack in. Both of them go to the ground, Jack’s face buried in his shoulder as both of them cry.

“I’m so sorry,” Jack whispers. “Cas, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Castiel holds him a little tighter. “It’s okay.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad. Not at you.” Castiel wants to tear everything apart that he can get his hands on, but not Jack. Never Jack.

“You’re disappointed.”

“I’m not. I’m-“ Castiel swallows. “I know why you’re saying this. And I’m so… proud of you. I’m so proud of you.” He’s ripped into pieces. He feels like he doesn’t even know how to put them back together again. But his son is trying so hard to be a good man, and he can’t fault him that. He remembers having the power that Jack does. He remembers the job he’d done with it, back when he had it.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I promise I’m not mad. I promise. You’re doing so much better than Chuck. You’re doing so much better than I did.”

“I don’t _want_ to.” The words come out in almost a wail. “I want to- he’s sacrificed so much and _you’ve_ sacrificed so much _and I asked you to stay-_ “

“I made the choice. You asked and I made the decision.” Castiel takes a breath. “I could have said no. And I didn’t.”

“It’s not fair.”

“It’s not. But you’re trying. You’re trying so hard, Jack, and I love you for it.”

Castiel made a deal with him. And Jack would never. Not intentionally. But there is a sliver of him that knows how easy it is to lose your footing. That knows how easy it is to slip.

Castiel won’t ask Jack to do something that frightens him so deeply. But there’s also a little part of him that can’t chance it, no matter how much he wants Jack to take Dean Winchester’s soul and shove it right back in his body, make sure he can live the rest of his life in comfort and peace. He can’t risk having to do what Jack asked him to. He won’t ask him to do anything that might push him into it, even if he thinks it’s so unlikely.

He takes another hit to his chest and Jack flinches, and he knows he feels it, too.

Dean’s gone.

Jack pulls back and wipes at his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again.

“It’s okay.” It feels like it might never be okay again. “It’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Jack gives him a look that is so painfully Winchester that his chest clenches, the look that tells him he’s said something extremely dumb. “ _Try_ not to beat yourself up about it. Is he…” he resists the urge to grit his teeth, thinking Jack may take it as anger against him and not anger against the whole situation. “Is he here yet?”

“No. I’ve set up a sort of… limbo for people coming in. He’s not conscious, it’ll seem like he died and just appeared here, but it gives the system time to… set up. To make space for people.”

“Make sure nothing touches his portion we’ve set aside for him. He’s got to make it himself. Put…” Dean had mentioned offhand once that he would have liked to set up shop one day, if things ever settled down, a communal spot. “Put the Roadhouse as his landing spot, Ellen and Jo wanted a break from running it after it being their heaven for so long, and send-“ Castiel thinks it over rapid-fire. It could be John, but he can’t be sure, and he _needs_ to be sure, he only gets one shot at this and it needs to be as perfect as he can make it. “Send Bobby to give him the rundown. Put the car there, too.” Dean likes a drive to clear his head and Castiel can only imagine he’s going to need it.

“You don’t want to be the one to do it?”

“I think that might be… overwhelming.” Dean needs to process things at his own pace, which is a pace much slower than that of himself or really anybody in the family (and Castiel was that, he knows, even if he’s not so sure in what capacity), and it’s only been three weeks. He’s not sure where Dean’s at. He needs to give him the space.

“I’ll make sure there’s roads so he can drive for a while if he needs to.”

“That’s a good idea.” Castiel rests a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t blame you. I don’t think it’s your fault. And I love you.”

Jack swallows and looks down, nodding.

“I’m gonna go find Bobby,” he says. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

“I can do it on my own.” Jack gives him a half-hearted smile and then he’s gone. Castiel slowly gets to his feet and stands in the park for a second before he takes a step.

He’s in the middle of the woods. Nobody’s heaven. Just land. He takes a moment.

Then Castiel _yells_ and swipes his hand out. Trees fall. He swipes another and more hit the ground. He turns in a circle, slashing and screaming, until the trees are all down around him in a circle, and it strikes him so much of the circle left around Dean’s grave when he first brought him back that he sits down heavily, putting his head in his hands and gritting his teeth.

After a little while he hears footsteps and he looks up to see Meg and Charlie approaching him. Charlie’s cheeks are wet and Meg’s face is motionless, which tells Castiel enough about what she’s feeling. They come walking up and stand next to him for a second before Charlie gives Meg a hand to help her ease into sitting on his right and Charlie sits on his left. Charlie scoots a little closer and rests her head against his shoulder.

“How did you know?” he rasps.

“Everyone knows, genius,” Meg says. “You think Dean Winchester is just gonna die and everybody he ever knew won’t know it?”

“It’s not right,” Charlie mumbles.

Castiel wipes his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. “Gross,” he mumbles. “Human reactions to things are so gross.”

“Physically or emotionally?”

He considers. “Yes.”

Charlie nods against his shoulder. “Yeah. Fair enough.”

“You don’t _have_ to be humanlike, you know,” Meg points out.

“I don’t think I know how not to be anymore.”

They sit in silence.

“Why were you two together?” Castiel asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Meg answers.

It feels like something Castiel should be vaguely worried about, or if not worried curious. He doesn’t say anything, though. He sits there looking up at blue sky, Charlie leaning against him and Meg sitting straight up but a comforting presence at his side nonetheless.

“I have something I need to do,” he says eventually.

“Go for it,” Charlie answers, and he vanishes. He’s not surprised to see him sitting outside Kelly’s house.

“I’m sorry. But I want to ask a favor.”

Jack immediately looks apprehensive. Castiel can’t say he blames him. “What?”

“It’s okay. It’s not a resurrection. It has precedence. I’ll never ask for it again.”

Jack is still eyeing him warily. “Okay?”

“I want to appear to someone in a dream. I don’t want to do anything else. That’s it. And if it’s something you’re uncomfortable with, then you don’t have to.”

Jack is quiet.

“I could do a dream,” he says. “Who do you need to speak to?”

Castiel stands uncertainly against the back wall of the restaurant, not sure where he should really be standing, waiting for her to notice him from where she’s sitting at the table.

It’s her choice of setting, even if she doesn’t know it consciously. It’s the restaurant they got burgers at one time together, just the two of them. She had been confused but seemed kind of happy, and it means something to him that this is where she feels comfortable.

When she does notice him, she doesn’t jump but instead blinks.

“I think I knew you were here,” Claire says.

“I know.”

“Is this real?” She shifts a little uncertainly on the chair. “It feels… more real.”

“It’s real. It’s me.”

Claire stares at him for another moment and then stands. She rushes to him and he’s half expecting her to hit him when instead she collides with him in a hug. A little startled, he wraps his arms around her.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hello, Claire.”

“You’re dead.”

“I was. In a manner of speaking. It’s complicated.” Hesitantly, he rests a hand against the back of her head, same as he might do for Jack. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re dead and you _left._ Both of you _left._ ”

“I know.” He swallows. “I’m sorry. I know.”

She pulls back, wiping at her eyes. “Can’t you ask Jack to bring him back?”

“This is… the best I can do.” Castiel puts his hands on her shoulders. “I tried, Claire. I begged.”

“…I believe you.” She walks over to the table and sits down. She looks small and alone and there is a part of Castiel that thinks he did this to her, that if he’d done more, she wouldn’t look like this. He walks over to one of the tables and tugs the tablecloth off before carefully wrapping it around her shoulders. She gives him that look she gets when he does his best to convey emotions with her, the one that seems a little amused, a little confused, maybe even a little fond. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He sits across from her.

“I asked Jack to bring you both back.” Claire tugs the tablecloth around her a little more firmly. “But it was a prayer sort of… couched in me screaming into the woods. So maybe he didn’t hear it.”

“He’s very intent on a… hands-off approach when it comes to humanity.” Castiel looks at the floor. “He wishes to avoid the mistakes of my father. Much as I wish to avoid his. Much as Dean and Sam wished to avoid theirs.”

“I think he’ll pull it off.” Claire scuffs her shoe on the ground. “He’s the best of the lot of us. This restaurant is… a _lot_ cleaner than it was when we went here.”

“Yes. Well. I thought maybe it would be nicer.” He rests his hands in his lap, a little uncertain about what to do with them. “I thought perhaps you would have chosen your childhood home but that may have been… a considerably worse place for us to have this conversation.”

“Yeah. Probably. Where are you?”

“Heaven. Jack has asked me to help rebuild it. It was… less than ideal for its inhabitants previously. We’re… refurbishing.”

“Are… my parents there?”

“They are.” They were among the first portions of Heaven that Castiel had helped rebuild. He’d felt he’d owed it to them. “They miss you but they’re happy.”

Claire has a sort of half grin on her face. “How will I be able to tell my dad from you?”

“You’ll know.”

She swallows, looking down at her lap, grin fading.

“It’s not _fair,_ ” she whispers. “I lost you and then a few weeks later I just… I can’t lose _both_ of you. It’s not fair.”

“No. It isn’t.”

Her voice gets smaller. “Dean didn’t want to come?”

“Dean doesn’t even know I’m here. There’s precedence for angels visiting humans in their dreams. It’s the only way I was able to come.”

“Have you seen him yet?”

“Not yet. Time is… fluid in Heaven. We’ll see each other again.” He keeps his voice firm. There’s no reason for Claire to know his doubts and anxieties on the subject of reuniting with Dean. Claire needs the image of a united front.

“Do you know if he’s okay?”

“I believe he’s out for a drive. And that he’s enjoying it. There’s peace in Heaven now, Claire. He’ll be at peace for eternity.”

Claire nods, still gazing downwards.

“You really decided to use your one shot on me?” she asks. “Not Sam?”  
“Sam is grieving. But it is not the first time he’s grieved a heavy loss. Or even Dean’s loss. You are… younger. You deserve a certain… modicum of comfort.”

Slowly, Claire stands. She brings her chair around right next to Castiel’s and leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“He’s pretty broken up about it, Jody says,” she tells him. “Jody and Donna wanted to be the ones to tell me but he told her to say he’ll call me.”

“He will.”

“Unless he won’t.”

“He _will._ ” He squeezes her shoulders. “Sam loves you just as Dean did. He may be accustomed to grief but he is still suffering. He wasn’t ready to speak to you yet but he wanted you to know. And soon he will be ready to speak to you again. He won’t just forget you.”

She sniffs.

“Dad, then Mom, then you, then Dean.”

“I know. There’s no part of this that’s fair. And don’t. Don’t blame Jack. Jack is… doing his best.”

“I know. I was, uh. Pretty pissed a couple days ago but I’m just… I know.”

“And he’s not… the only one who was the best out of Sam, Dean, and I.” Castiel looks down at her. “You are an exceptional young woman, Claire, and I know that I can speak for the three of us when I say we have all been extremely grateful to know you. I am sorry for all the damage and wrong I have caused you. But I consider it my privilege to have known you. And I just… want you to know that.”

Claire swallows and nods. “Thanks,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry that you have to do this. Any of this. But remember that you don’t have to do it alone.”

“Are you?”

He’s thrown. “Am I what?”

“Doing it alone.”

“I… I have Jack. And I have been… seeing friends.”

Claire nods slowly. “And Dean’s alright?”

“Yes.”

“I, uh.” She takes a breath. “Kaia is… wonderful. And I’m so happy she’s back. And everybody else is… helping. Or trying to help. There’s not a lot that’s helping right now. But they’re trying. And I just… I want you to not… worry about me. Cause I know I’m gonna be alright. It just… feels like I’ll never be alright again right now.” She kicks at the floor again. “I’m running low on parental figures, Cas, losing two more isn’t helpful.”

Castiel takes a breath at the admission couched in what she’s just said, even though he doesn’t have to.

“I understand,” he whispers, a little choked. “Thank you.”

“Can I tell Sam about this?”

“I would never ask you to keep a secret from Sam.”

“Will I see you again?”

“No. It’s just the once.”

“I mean like… eventually.”

“Oh. Yes, eventually you will see me again. But…” Castiel tries to parse the words carefully so they don’t come out all tangled and anxious. “Try to make sure it’s not too soon, Claire.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna get reckless when I’m hunting.” She rolls her eyes at the look Castiel shoots her. “I am less likely to be reckless now than I was before.”

It’s something. “Thank you.”

“Will you tell Dean when you see him that I miss him? And I’m just… really glad that I got to know him.”

“Of course.”

She wipes at her eyes a little. “I miss you, too.”

“I know. I’ll miss you until I see you again.”

“Will you sit with me until I wake up?”

“Of course.”

They sit in silence, Castiel keeping his arm around her shoulders, feeling her breathing slow as they stare at the wall of the restaurant.

“Promise me you’ll be okay,” she whispers.

“I promise I’ll be okay.” The room is fading a little bit and he tightens the arm around her shoulders. “Live well, Claire. Live wonderful.”

“I promise.”

The restaurant snaps out of existence, and Castiel stands in the white room in heaven he’d been redirected to.

“Goodbye, Claire,” he says quietly, before he leaves the room.

Dean is, as far as Castiel knows, making the rounds in Heaven, visiting friends he’s missed.

He doesn’t call out to Castiel. Castiel doesn’t reach out to him.

Jack is beaming when Castiel shows up to the park. “He didn’t blame me!”

Castiel, who has spent the day building a rather large bookstore and has been distracted by the Dewey Decimal System, is a little thrown. “What?”

“Dean. He doesn’t blame me.”

“He was never going to blame you.” Castiel glances over his shoulder at the new town, exactly the way it was when the four of them came. “You’ve constructed the rest of it, I see.”

“I thought I should finish it.” Jack looks around, clearly satisfied. “I was thinking Dean and I could come here again.”

“Yes,” Castiel says dryly. “You could embark on a whole new vendetta about the swings.”

“I’d win this time.”

“Don’t, don’t use your powers to win in that, Jack, Dean’s going to say that’s practically cheating.”

“I’d win cause I would just _win,_ ” Jack answers, the _obviously_ implied in his tone.

Castiel looks back at the ice cream parlor. He wants to know if Dean’s alright. Wants to know it like an ache in his chest. He wants to know every little thing about Dean, every little bit of the last three weeks of his life that he missed, how he’s doing now. But he’s not going to ask his son to play go-between. It’s not fair. “It looks good, Jack. It’s nice.”

“Thank you. I like it.” Jack turns to him. “He’s thinking about opening up the Roadhouse again.”

“Jack, you don’t need to tell me-“

“I just want to tell you about my day,” he says matter of factly. “I know I don’t need to tell you anything. But I usually talk to you about my day, so I’m doing it now.”

Castiel wonders for just a second if he’s using it as a loophole but there’s plain honesty in his face. “…okay. You can tell me about your day.”

“He’s thinking about opening the Roadhouse back up.” Jack walks up and puts a hand on one of the trees in the park. It changes to the red leaves of fall and he looks at it contemplatively. “Ellen and Jo still don’t want it. Not for a while, anyway. But he likes the idea of being a bartender.”

He probably likes the idea of all his friends gathered under one roof, where he can look at them and knowing they’re all right. “That sounds nice for him.”

“He doesn’t blame me. And he’s looking forwards to when he gets to see Sam again. I think he misses you,” he adds thoughtfully. Castiel’s stomach drops down to his feet. “He didn’t say it. But he looked a little. I dunno, wistful? He was happy to know that you were okay.”

“I’m.” He clears his throat. “I miss him, too.”

“This seems very easy.”

“It’s… not.”

“You have been around longer than I have.” The leaves start shifting back to green, a brighter shade than they previously were. “But Meg has also been around for a while and she says you’re both emotionally constipated.”

Castiel scowls. “Meg doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Meg seems like a smart lady.”

He squints. “Don’t sass your father.”

Jack takes a hand off the tree, seemingly satisfied with the color. “I’m just saying what Meg said.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Charlie also says you’re both kind of emotionally constipated but that you’re trying.”

He narrows his eyes even further. “Anybody else you ask for input about my relation-“ he catches himself. “About me and Dean?”

“I didn’t ask anybody. People are very keen to tell me.” Jack sticks his hands in his pockets. “I think it’s kind of funny. And sweet. Everyone’s thinking about you.”

“Everyone’s being very annoying about me.” He points at Jack. “Except you. But everybody else.”

“Yes, well.” Jack grins at him. “People don’t stop being annoying in heaven.”

Castiel is walking through a small town to inspect it for errors (he’d found a few windows in the previous town that were at odd angles, which is embarrassing considering he’d been the one who’d made them) when something rings oddly in his head. It’s the ring that happens when he’s being prayed to and, a little bewildered, he rests a hand against the park bench nearby, tuning in.

_Hey, Cas. Are you, uh, are you listening? Well. I guess I got no way of knowing if you are, huh? I’ll just… take it on faith._

Castiel slowly walks over the bench properly and sits down heavily on it, eyes unfocused as he listens to Sam’s voice, clear as day.

_Claire told me about her dream and it’s just… a relief to hear that you’re okay, you know? And that Dean ended up somewhere okay. I don’t blame you for going to Claire instead of me, by the way. That was the right thing to do._

_My guess is you’re gonna stay in Heaven. Where Dean is. And I understand that, too. I’ve always understood that, for the record, and I’ve always… approved. I’ve always thought that was a good thing. Even when the two of you were at each other’s throats sometimes, I thought that, ultimately, it was a good thing._

_I don’t know how things are going up there, by the way, but for the record, any time you were gone, whether you left or you died, he was… a wreck. This last time he just… I just found him passed out on the floor surrounded by beer bottles, Cas. He was devastated. And I, uh. I don’t know if that helps. But it felt like something… you should know. Going forwards._

_I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m not gonna try and follow him. Eileen and I are talking about moving in together, you know? We’ll keep hunting but maybe we’ll… get a little house. I think it’s good to be out of the Bunker. And I’m taking care of Dean’s dog. He’s a good dog._

_Cas, I want you to know that you’re one of my best friends. That even when you’ve made bad decisions I’ve thought your heart was in the right place. I’m really glad I got to know you. And that you’re okay. And that I’ll get to see you again someday._

_Take care, Cas._

Castiel sits on the bench and stares at the little town, eyes a little wet.

“Take care, Sam,” he whispers.

“I don’t like to fish,” Charlie says.

Castiel blinks from where he’s standing, hands in pockets, as he watches Charlie play _Lord of the Rings_ pinball intensely.

“That’s good to know,” he settles on.

“Dean tried to teach me and I was like _damn this sucks_ and he gave me some shit about how I didn’t understand the art but then he let it go.”

“I am… sorry for your misadventure.”

Charlie curses as she makes a mistake. It’s something Castiel truly admires about humanity: many of them get to paradise and insist on getting some things wrong sometimes because otherwise it’s not fun anymore.

“You like fishing, don’t you?”

“Somewhat.” It hadn’t been nearly as enjoyable doing it on his own when he’d been away from the Bunker, but perhaps that had been because it was an activity he didn’t enjoy doing on his own as much as he had with Dean.

“Terrific.” She straightens from the pinball machine and turns to Castiel. “So the two of you can do that together instead of me having to do it.”

Castiel narrows his eyes.

“You’re about as subtle as Jack is,” he says irritably.

“I’m just saying.” She starts wandering around the arcade, arms folded, and Castiel follows with his hands in his pockets. “If _I_ don’t like fishing, and _you_ like fishing, and _Dean_ likes fishing, and he’s queer and you’re gay, then who’s flying the-“

“It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, that’s what he says, too.”

Castiel tries not to think too deeply about his knee jerk emotional reaction to hearing that Dean talks about him with other people. “You left yourself out in your whole little… metaphor.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the kind of gay that makes me a player in-“ she gestures vaguely. “Whatever this is that you two have going on.”

“Nothing is going on and everything is fine.”

“That’s what people who have something that isn’t fine and something going on say. Dean’s gonna come bowl with me later, you know, you could stay for-“

“I have urgent matters.”

“I asked him if he wanted to show up early so we could all play video games together and he said-“ she lowers her voice and makes it gruffer. “ _I got, uh, stuff going on, Charlie._ You both suck.”

Castiel also tries to avoid thinking about the myriad of reasons that Dean could be avoiding him. “How is Meg?”

“Oh my god.” Charlie grins at him, glowing. “I like her _so much_ , Cas. She’s so _fucking_ funny and so _fucking_ weird. I dunno how she feels, I get _you can’t tie me down, babe_ vibes from her but that’s fine, if she just wants to wander around heaven and pop in sometimes I can roll with that.”

“I’m glad you’ve found some measure of happiness.”

Charlie’s grin gets a little wicked. “Even though you don’t like it?”

“I believe in the end you may actually be good for one another.” He’s fairly certain it’s true and that he isn’t lying. “And whether or not I liked it wouldn’t matter anyway, as it is your happiness that is central to your wellbeing and not mine.”

“You’re goddamn right.” She punches his arm. “Come play air hockey with me. I want to tell Dean that I beat you when he comes later.”

“I don’t know what air hockey is.”

“Which is why I’m gonna beat you, and it’s gonna be awesome.”

“It’s a pretty dumb thing you’re doing here, Clarence.”

“Everyone has all these opinions all of the sudden.” Castiel dips a fry in ketchup. “I’m fairly certain I didn’t ask for them.”

Meg looks at him over her burger that she’s not eating. Castiel suspects that she ordered it even though she didn’t feel like one because she didn’t want it to seem like she was here just to spend time with him. “Do I seem like the kind of girl who goes around asking about people’s feelings before she gives them her opinion?”

Castiel sighs. “No.” The _regrettably_ is on the tip of his tongue but he lets it stay there because really, he doesn’t mean it.

“So being on the same plane of existence is what you need but so long as you never ever speak to him-“

Castiel huffs. “I can’t believe Charlie told you that.”

“Can’t you?”

“How is Charlie?”

“Can’t get out of this conversation _that_ easy.”

“Why do you want to _have_ this conversation?”

“Maybe I care about you or something.” She steals one of his fries but Castiel suspects that has more to do with proving a point than it does wanting one. “Fuck me, I guess.”

Castiel takes a break from being vaguely irritated so he can be pleased. “Oh.”

“We will never discuss that statement again.”

Castiel pokes another fry into his ketchup. “Have you… seen him?”

“Not on purpose.” She rolls her eyes at the expression on Castiel’s face. “He comes by to see Charlie and sometimes I’m there.”

“Does he seem… well?”

“Why don’t you find out yourself?”

“Well, if you care about-“

“If those words come out of your mouth I will break your face and _twist_ it.”

Castiel waits.

“Not entirely happy about the situation with Charlie, but civil. Says dying gives you perspective.”

That sounds healthy. Every little piece Castiel hears about Dean these days sounds healthy. He sounds happy at the Roadhouse, he and Charlie play arcade games together, he goes fishing. He sounds at peace, which is what Castiel has always wanted for him.

“Charlie doesn’t like it either, you know.”

“You don’t have to take her side just because she’s your-“ he feels himself wilt a little under her suddenly arched eyebrows. “Because she’s Charlie.”

“I’m on my own side, baby. It’s the best side there is.” She takes another one of his friends. “Call your boyfriend. I’m tired of him asking about you.”

“He…” Castiel swallows. “He asks about me?”

Meg stares at him, then calmly swaps their plates out and starts eating all his fries, eyes never leaving his.

Castiel peers out through the windows of the skyscraper, looking down over the town for any irregularities. He could do this outside the skyscraper, of course, but he likes this. He even took the elevator up. He likes elevators. He thinks they’re cute.

He stands with his hands in his pockets, looking out the window. Everything looks alright. He thinks Samandriel built this one. It was good work. He should let him know the next time he sees him.

“Hey, Cas.”

The bottom drops out of Castiel’s stomach as he spins around.

Sam looks about the same as he did when he last saw him, hands shoved in the pockets of his flannel as he grins at Castiel, a little sheepishly.

“I thought praying might be weird,” he says. “I was told I could just start walking and I would end up where you were, if I went looking.”

“Sam.” The two of them hug, Castiel grinning. It’s only been what feels like five months or so since he’s seen him, but he’s missed Sam’s constancy. “Please tell me you died in a reasonable manner.”

“Just of… being an old man.”

“Good.” Castiel tilts his head towards the elevator. “Let’s walk. Tell me about what you’ve been up to.”

“Eileen’ll be along soon.” Castiel takes a bite of his hot dog and grimaces. Sam had wanted them and he thought he would try them but he never liked them very much on Earth and he doesn’t really like them now, either. “Time is different here.”

“Yeah.” Sam looks wistful and Castiel is glad that he had this, someone he loved so deeply and powerfully that it can cause this look on his face at missing her, even if he knows it’s only shortly. “That’s what I’ve heard.” He shoots Castiel an amused look. “You don’t, you don’t need to eat that cause I’m eating one, Cas, you can just chuck it.”

Castiel immediately tosses it in one of the trash cans they pass as they walk along the sidewalk of the city. “Excellent.”

“Dean seems happy.” Castiel makes a noncommittal noise, hoping to hear more stories about Sam’s son and grandchildren. “Hey, is it _really_ true that you haven’t seen my brother in the four and a half months that he’s been here?”

Damn. “He hasn’t seen me, either.”

“That’s a really mature stance to take here, Cas.”

“I wanted to give him space. He processes things at his own pace.”

Sam takes a bite of his hot dog. “Four and a half months of space is a lot of space.”

“I had some work to do.”

“Meg says there’s no real work left to do and you’re just doing it because this whole concept stresses you out.”

“Meg…” Would actually know that better than anybody, considering her previous job. “Says things.”

Sam grins. “Well, we all say things.”

“Yes, I am aware, thank you.”

“Mom’s got thoughts.”

“ _Everybody’s_ got thoughts.” Castiel can’t take a step these days without someone asking him about when he’s going to talk to Dean. It’s one of the reasons he likes cities, at this point- plenty of people don’t know that he knows Dean.

“Maybe everybody’s got thoughts because one of you needs to take a step.” Sam licks a bit of mustard off his thumb. “Look, I’m not saying Dean isn’t also being an idiot, but he’s not listening to me when I tell him to talk to you, so I have to give you a shot. And by the way,” he adds. “He’s being an idiot for the _exact_ same reason you’re being an idiot. So it’s not like he’s dodging you because he never wants to see you again. At this point he’s as worried about giving you space and not wanting to deal with it as you seem to be.”

Castiel frowns. “I resent the suggestion that I’m an idiot.”

“I’m flat out telling you that you’re an idiot.”

“It’s-“

“Look.” Sam wipes his hands with the napkin that the hot dog vendor gave him and he shoved in his pocket before throwing it in the trash can. “I know what went down, okay? I weaseled it out of Dean before-“ he waves a hand. “You know.”

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to Castiel that Dean may have actually told Sam. “I… see.”

“And it wasn’t-“ He starts talking with his hands. “It wasn’t like I didn’t _know_ , Cas, I’ve known for a _while._ You’re not subtle. But neither is he, and he’s not subtle because it’s him, too, Cas.”

“I.” Castiel takes a breath, keeping his eyes in front of him. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“It’s not a _sentiment_.” Sam has a tone that sounds both vaguely amused and vaguely frustrated. “Dude, I’ve known for _years._ Didn’t you notice that when you two met he wanted to fuck every girl he met and that went away after he knew you for a couple years?”

“Correlation does not equate causation.”

“And didn’t you notice the way he _looked_ at you after Purgatory?”

“He was relieved to see me _._ ”

“And this one I can tell you, even if you didn’t notice it, but he was a _disaster_ any time you went away. Whether you were dead or what. He insisted on preparing your pyre alone, Cas, he didn’t want me or Jack anywhere near you.”

“I…” Hadn’t known that. “Sam.”

“I’m just saying, whatever grand rejection you’re expecting, you’re not gonna get it. Even if you two never ever _ever_ want to talk about it again, he won’t dump you on the curb.”

“Did you come here _just_ to talk me into going to see Dean?”

“No. I came to see you cause you’re my friend and I missed you and I wanted you to know about my life.” Castiel finally feels safe to look at Sam, who looks pretty peaceable if still amused. “Bothering you about this is just a perk.”

Castiel sighs. “Tell me more about your son, Sam.”

Castiel paces around Heaven a few more days.

The thing is, Sam is right. And Meg. And Charlie. And Gabriel, who had thought the whole thing was very funny but still pressed the point. And everybody else he’s talked to for the past few months.

He’d said what he said to Dean because it was the right thing to do. It _was_ what brought him happiness. It had been a relief to finally say it, and he had said it with no strings attached. He had done it because it felt right.

But there is a point in the idea that perhaps not having to address it was, as Sam would put it, “a perk”, even if had never occurred to him.

Castiel paces. He thinks. He wonders how best to do this, and in the end, he decides on the simplest option.

The Roadhouse is bustling. He can hear it from the outside, a bunch of cars pulled up and lingering in the parking lot. He takes a moment to steel himself before he lets himself in.

People are crowded around tables, some of them he recognizes and some of them he doesn’t. Bobby is in deep conversation with Ellen. Jo raises a beer in hello. Charlie is avidly discussing something with Kevin.

And there he is, behind the bar.

He’s wiping it down, even though it’s almost certainly something he doesn’t need to do. There’s something different about the way he carries himself. He doesn’t look quite so tense, something looser in his shoulders. His brow is unfurrowed.

Castiel takes a few steps forwards until he’s about halfway into the room and stops again. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to say anything he _would_ want to say.

Dean tosses his dishrag under the bar and glances up. He does a double take that would almost be comical if Castiel’s palms weren’t a little sweaty.

“Hello, Dean,” he says, proud of himself that his voice doesn’t crack.

Dean immediately makes his way out from behind the bar and rapidly walks up to Castiel until he collides with him in an almost forceful hug. Castiel returns it, the relief settling into his skin. He lets himself sink into the hug and pretends that he doesn’t know that despite everyone continuing their conversations, they have several sets of eyes on them.

“Hey, Cas,” he whispers, and it occurs to him that he’d very much missed being called Cas by him. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” _Good_ is not the word he wants to use. It feels too small. But it’s the one he chooses.

Dean pulls back but keeps his hands resting gently against his shoulders. “You want a beer?”

“Yes. That sounds nice.”

Dean heads behind the bar and Castiel comes up to sit on a stool, refusing to dwell too much on the fact that he would have really preferred his hands to stay where they were.

“It’s nice here,” Castiel says as Dean hands him a beer. “I like it.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Dean looks around, satisfied. “Nice little setup.” He leans against the back wall, arms folded. “Jack says you’ve been keeping an eye on where the walls are.”

“Yes. But I think I’ve completed my work. There shouldn’t be any more issue.”

“It’s, uh.” Dean looks down. “It’s a good job you’ve done here, Cas.”

Something warm flares to life in Castiel’s chest. “It was mostly Jack.”

“That’s not what he says.”

“He’s modest.”

“Well. I think you’re probably bullshitting but whatever amount you’ve done, it’s good.”

“Thank you.” Castiel takes a sip of his beer. “What have you been doing?”

“Some fishing. Some driving. Running this. Hanging out with people. I, uh, built a house.”

Castiel smiles. “That’s good. I’m glad.” He hesitates and then puts the beer down, feeling his smile fade. “Dean, I’m-“

Dean holds up a hand. “Nope.”

“But-“

“Nope.” Dean takes a couple steps forwards and leans his hands on the bar. “I don’t blame you, Cas.”

“It was always my intention to return.”

“I know. Jack explained the whole thing to me. You did the right thing. You shouldn’t have left Jack when he needed you. And even before I knew all that, I didn’t blame you.” Castiel purses his lips, thinking about how if he had been there, he probably could have saved Dean, and Dean points at him. “Cut that crap out, Cas, I’m serious. I don’t hold you responsible for any of it. So you shouldn’t, either.”

Dean’s capacity for forgiveness is more than he gives himself credit for. “Regardless. I’m sorry you’ve passed, even if it wasn’t my fault.”

“Yeah, well. You know there’s good therapists up here?”

“Yes. Jack and I felt it integral to the system.”

“Yeah, so. I’m working through it.” Dean grins. “Didn’t you once tell me _condolences_ when I died, like a smartass?”

Castiel can’t help the smile that flickers across his face, even with how generally unfunny he’s found it when Dean passes. “I thought you’d earned them.”

Dean looks down again, still grinning. “Thanks, man.”

Castiel gestures to the walls. “You have a picture of Doc Holliday up, I see.”

“Doc Holliday was kickass, man, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Just an observation.” He’d keep making observations like that if Dean kept grinning.

“Uh-huh, sure, that’s all it was.” Dean pushes himself off the bar. “So what are you gonna do now?”

“I… don’t know.” It’s true. He’s spent the past six months working exclusively on the new system that he’s not quite sure what to do with himself now that he can no longer pretend that it’s necessary. “I’m going to figure something out, I suppose.”

“You could always hang out here, if you want.” Dean glances at him before he seems to make himself keep the gaze on Castiel. “I would like you to hang out here. I’ve, uh. I’ve missed you.”

Castiel swallows, a little thrown.

“I missed you, too,” he manages. “And I’d like to hang out here.”

Dean grins.

“Awesome,” he says, and something in Castiel’s chest unclenches, a little bit.

Charlie comes up and punches him in the arm. “You gonna come to bowling nights now or what?”

“I fail to understand the appeal of bowling.”

“Well, I beat Dean, and then it’s funny.”

Dean glowers. “You _never_ beat me at bowling.”

Charlie ignores that. “You could also both head into the arcade. I _know_ Cas would beat you at air hockey.”

Dean turns an affronted look on Castiel. “You could beat me at air hockey?”

“I had a certain aptitude.” He thinks about pointing out that it doesn’t mean he’d beat Dean because he doesn’t know what _his_ aptitude is, but he’s enjoying the look on Dean’s face too much.

“So we should all bowl together and see what’s what. Sam said he’d do it with me.”

“Sam’s more fun than Dean is,” Castiel says, because he can’t resist it. Dean looks even more affronted.

“Hey, fuck you, Cas. I can run fun circles _all_ around Sam.” Dean puts his hands back on the bar, leaning in. “Now you _gotta_ play, Cas.”

Castiel feels his lips twitch up. “Well. If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

“All right.” Dean turns to Charlie, who is watching with a deeply amused look on her face. “Charlie, did you want another beer?”

“Uh-huh.” Dean hands her one, eyeing her somewhat suspiciously. Castiel can’t blame him. There is definitely something a little too knowing in the expression Charlie’s wearing. She smiles sweetly. “Thanks.”

She heads back to her table and Dean turns to him. “Cas, you want a burger?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Castiel says emphatically, pretty sure the last time he ate was that hot dog with Sam. “I do.”

Castiel sits out on the dock by one of the lakes he’s fond of, dangling his feet in the water, sitting in peaceful silence. He had devised all sorts of disastrous scenarios for what might happen when he saw Dean again. Maybe Dean would blame him. Maybe Dean would be angry. Maybe Dean would throw him out of the Roadhouse and tell him he never wanted to see him again.

But that had gone… well. They hadn’t talked about it. But maybe Dean wasn’t ready to talk about it. Castiel isn’t sure he is, either. It had been good to simply… see Dean. To be standing there in his presence again, to joke with him. It had been enough. It’ll continue to be enough.

“Castiel!”

Castiel blinks, looking behind him.

On the long dirt road behind him, the Impala’s pulled up, Jack behind the driver’s wheel, Dean peering around him. It is, Castiel thinks, extremely odd that they would have ended up here, in the same place as him.

He stands on the dock and rolls down his pant legs, socks and shoes appearing on his feet automatically.

“Hi!” Jack says cheerfully as he approaches the car. “Dean’s teaching me more about driving.”

“That’s good.” Castiel leans a hand on the car as he lowers himself down just enough to see through the window. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes. I’ve only driven a couple times before. This is nice.”

“That’s good. I’m pleased. Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.”

“Come with us,” Jack says suddenly.

“Oh, I don’t-“

“Hop in,” Dean says. “It’ll be fun.”

Castiel eyes the Impala warily, a certain amount of foreboding that he is not necessarily familiar with associating with the car resting in his gut.

“Relax.” Dean’s got his arm resting outside of his window and he talks with his hand a little bit. “Kid wraps us around a tree, none of us are dying.”

It’s not especially comforting but Castiel gets into the backseat anyway.

“It’s very funny that you’re so concerned about this,” Jack says as he closes the door. “I’ve driven before, you know. Why is it so upsetting?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I do trust you.” It’s true, but he’s still apprehensive.

“Nah, makes sense.” Dean glances at him in the rearview mirror. “When Mom came back, she was real twitchy about me driving the car.”

 _It must be a parent thing sometimes_ goes unsaid and it warms Castiel a little bit. “Go ahead and drive, Jack.”

Jack starts the car back up and starts driving. Castiel tries not to grab at the armrest on the door. As it is, he presses the flat of his hand very intensely against it.

“Surprised we ran into you, to be honest,” Dean says, supremely unconcerned as he watches the trees go by. “It’s a big heaven.”

“Lucky things happen.” Jack takes a curve a little fast.

“Whoa, easy there, kid,” Dean says at the same time Castiel goes “ _Jack_ ” warningly, his hand definitely tightening on the armrest.

“It’s fine.” Jack slows down a little. “I could straighten the road out from here, if you wanted.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid, just go slower.”

Castiel thinks it wouldn’t be so bad, if the road were a little straighter. “Where are you going?”

“Just driving to drive.” Dean looks in the rearview again. “Did you have something planned? We can drop you off-“

“No. I’m happy right here.” It’s true, he finds. A little… nervewracking. But him and Jack and Dean out for a afternoon drive, nothing else to do? There are worse things.

Dean looks startled, and then grins at him. Castiel feels his lips twitch in an answering smile, and they sit there looking at each other for a second before he looks outside the window.

“It’s a nice day for it.” It’s a bit of a silly thing for Dean to say, truthfully. It’s always going to be a nice day for it, if that’s what Dean wants.

“Yeah. It is.”

“I don’t care for the shoes.”

Dean sprawls out on the seat next to him in the bowling alley, legs outstretched. They’re both on one of three benches by their lane. “Nobody likes the shoes.”

“That’s true.” Charlie hands Castiel the cheese fries he’d requested when she’d gone to get them food. “These are nasty, dude, I don’t know why you like them.”

“I like them _very_ much.”

“These are awesome.” Dean leans over and sneaks a fry. “She just doesn’t understand us.”

“No,” Castiel agrees, pretending he’s entirely unaffected by the _us._ “She doesn’t. Don’t take _all_ the ones that have the most bacon and cheese on them.”

Dean blows a raspberry but leaves the best fries alone to take simply one of the better ones.

“Pick a side,” Charlie says, turning to Meg, who is reading a tabloid magazine of some kind.

“I’m here against my will,” she answers, not looking up from her magazine. “I take no sides.”

“I got you a soft pretzel.”

One of Meg’s eyebrows arches and she takes one hand off her magazine (but not her eyes) to take the pretzel, sliding her hand so it rests on the spine and she can read and eat at the same time.

“Charlie’s right,” she says.

“No fair,” Dean says through a mouthful of cheesy fry. “Interference.”

Meg does lower the magazine now. “Do you _have_ to chew with your mouth open?”

“ _Maybe._ ”

“Don’t kill each other before Sam and Jack get here,” Charlie says.

“We can’t,” Meg points out.

“We can _try_ ,” Dean counters.

“Nobody’s killing anybody,” Castiel says flatly. “Everybody be nice to each other.”

Meg takes a bite of pretzel. “Or what, you gonna smite me?”

“Maybe he will.”

“No,” Castiel says to Meg before he turns to Dean. “ _No._ ”

Dean looks curious. “Can you even smite people up here?”

“I’m… not going to find out.” Castiel reaches over and takes a sip from Dean’s root beer. “So don’t tempt me.”

“Ooooh,” Charlie whispers. “We’ve got a badass over here.”

Dean looks amused. “Yeah, Cas, I bet that’ll go real well for you.” He takes his root beer back. “Gimme that.”

“I preferred it when they weren’t talking,” Meg mumbles, too quiet for Dean to hear he thinks but certainly not too quiet for him. He glowers. Meg takes what looks like an almost confrontational bite of her pretzel.

“Oooh, they have soft pretzels.” Jack perks up as he and Sam come down the stairs into the alley. “I could go for a soft pretzel. I promise I will not use anything other than my already natural abilities on this game.”

“We know, Jack.” Sam claps him on the shoulder. “We believe you.”

“I don’t,” Meg says, putting her magazine down on the ground.

Dean and Castiel lean forwards as one. Castiel’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t need to look at Dean to know that he’s got a very sharp look on his face. Charlie inches away from Meg just a little. Sam rolls his eyes and Jack looks amused.

“Liar,” Sam and Jack say at the same time, Jack pretty contentedly.

Sam looks at Dean and Castiel and rolls his eyes again. “Guys, get your murder faces off, Jesus.”

Castiel supposes he’s not surprised. Sam’s always been the most easygoing of the three of them when it comes to Jack. It’s good for him to have one reasonable parent. He still shoots a warning look to Meg, who just looks bored.

“I thought the whole point of this was to see whether or not Casper could beat Feathers,” Meg says. “If you’re a two man team it defeats that.”

“It’s more fun playing on a team with Dean.”

Dean goes a little pink and stutters for a second. “Yeah, uh, yeah, what he said.”

“It’ll be fun.” Charlie grins. “Me, Sam and Jack, Dean and Cas, and you to heckle. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“For the best.” Sam sits next to Jack on the bench. “You two get competitive when you’re playing each other on anything.”

“Hey,” Dean says as Castiel answers “untrue”.

“Mariokart,” Jack points out.

“Smash Bros,” Sam adds.

“The hour and a half of air hockey you two apparently played before we get here,” Charlie says.

“Cas cheated,” Dean answers.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You can’t _cheat_ at _air hockey,_ Dean.”

“Bullshit. You leaned on the table.”

“Leaning on the table in air hockey would mean that it would come _down_ my way, Dean, which is the opposite of-“

“You need to throw some giant rocks,” Meg cuts in. “Or I’m packing up and going back to Hell.”

Bowling is a curious team sport, Castiel thinks, in that there is nothing either person can particularly do to help the other when it’s their turn. There’s no communal strategy, really, nothing other than trusting the other person to do their best.

But, well, nothing else is new. Dean’s arm is slung around the back of his seat and when Castiel leans back on the bench just a little bit he doesn’t move it, but keeps it where it’s practically sprawled over over his shoulders.

“I wish this were closer,” Charlie mumbles.

Sam hefts his ball. “Jack, maybe you _should_ use some of your powers.”

“It’s… tempting.”

“Screw all of you.” Dean wipes his hands on a napkin after taking a bite of his BBQ wings. “You’re just jealous.”

Castiel throws the bone from the one he snuck from Dean in the trash. “Agreed.”

“Not our fault you’re really just duking it out for second.”

“It is _exactly_ your fault.”

“Aw, buck up, Meg.”

“Don’t tell me to buck up.”

Dean looks at Castiel. “We should have come up with a better team name.”

“Team One is acceptable.”

“It’s got no spark.”

“Of course it does. We’re Team One because we’re number one.”

Dean gapes and then grins. “I like it when you’re competitive on my side.”

Castiel flushes. “I’m enjoying this as well.”

Dean gets up and grabs his ball, heading for his turn. Meg leans in.

“Barf,” she whispers.

“You’re the one who told me I should talk to him again,” he hisses back. “I don’t know what you expected, we were always going to talk to each other.”

“That is true,” Charlie whispers. “We should have known flirting would be part of the package.”

“It’s still pretty bad,” Sam adds in a whisper of his own before Castiel can raise some objections to referring to his and Dean’s very reasonable dialogue as flirting. “Sorry, Cas.”

“Shut up.”

“Why are we whispering?” Jack whispers, leaning in. “Should I also whisper?”

“I dunno what you’re hobnobbing about over there,” Dean says, facing the lane. “But you should all be watching me and my awesomeness.”

“I’m not watching you kick our asses some more, Dean, I’m pretty tired of it.”

“I’ve been kicking your ass at everything since we were kids, Sammy.” Dean lines up the roll. “I don’t know why you’d expect now to be any different.”

Castiel stands on the edge of the property, looking out at it.

The farmhouse is a pale, inviting blue, set on top of a very slight hill. It’s larger than he might have expected, windows lining the front of the building in two rows, as well as a little one in the gable near the top. The porch is absolutely massive, wrapping around the house. He can see two chairs by the door to the house, as well as maybe a little end table between them. A single car garage sits next to the house, the same shade as the house except with white little doors covering the opening.

It’s perfect for Dean, he thinks. It’s absolutely perfect.

“Hey!”

Castiel is thrown from his reverie by Dean, leaning against the porch doorway, watching him.

“You gonna stand down there the whole time or come up and take a look around?”

Castiel smiles and in a blink he’s leaning next to Dean on the porch, looking out at the lake across from his home with the little dock. Dean jumps.

“ _Jesus,_ dude.” He gestures at the wide expanse of lawn in front of them. Castiel’s heard him complain about mowing it but knows he could make it less if he wanted to, and that he secretly likes the mowing. “You could have _walked_ up here, you know.”

“Yes. I know.”

“Son of a-“ Dean narrows his eyes. “You did that just to fuck with me.”

“I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure.” Dean tilts his head towards the solid oak door, opened just a crack. “If I give you the grand tour, are you gonna be an asshole and just zap all over the place?”

“No.” Castiel pushes himself off the porch. “Show me.”

Dean heads into the house and gestures grandly. “First, as you will see, we have the kitchen. I was, uh, really careful about this one.”

Castiel stands in the middle of the kitchen, the same pale blue of the house now on cabinets against white walls. “I like the built in shelves.”

“Right? You’ve got the glass in so you can see the full sets of plates and shit in there. I always figured when I was a kid that if you had full real sets of silverware and plates and stuff that meant you were living on easy street.”

“And you’ve got the windows because you like-“

“Natural light,” the two of them chorus.

Dean snaps his fingers. “ _Yes._ And now that we don’t have to worry about monsters anymore-“

“You can have as many windows as you want without worrying that something’s going to break in through them.”

“God.” Dean triumphantly claps him on the shoulder. “I _missed_ you.”

The moment takes them both off guard and they still, Dean’s hand on his shoulder. Castiel takes a leap and rests his hand over Dean’s. He jumps but doesn’t move, so he keeps his hand where it is.

“I missed you, too,” he says. “When I was gone it wasn’t because… I just didn’t want to…”

“Yeah.” Dean smiles faintly. “Yeah, me, too, Cas.”

Castiel gazes at him and thinks _right here. It would be so easy to bring it up. Right here._

“Want me to show you the rest of the house?” Dean asks, and Castiel could have sagged with relief.

“Yes. I would like that.”

“Cool.” Dean points to the left. “First of all, dining room! Nice, right? Lots of light. Check out that table _._ It’s uh, what do you call it, blue resin! I always thought these things were _extremely_ cool. My house, Cas, my rules: if there’s fun or cool shit I couldn’t have back down on Earth, then I have it here. Careful, by the way, Miracle’s somewhere around here and little dude just fucking _loves_ to trip you when you’re not looking.”

“I think we should go get breakfast.”

Castiel blinks, looking up from his beer. Dean’s leaning against the back wall behind the bar at the Roadhouse, looking decisive.

“When?”

“Now. We should do it now. I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry?”

Castiel thinks about bringing up the fact that you only get hungry up here mostly when you feel at least a little bit like being hungry, but lets it go. “I could eat.”

“Awesome. Let’s go eat breakfast.” Dean raises his voice. “Hey! Who wants to come up here and play bartender for a little while?” Charlie, Garth, and Bobby all raise their hands. “Bobby, doing this means you’d have to make small talk with people for a little while.” Bobby’s hand goes down and Dean sighs. “I dunno, you two flip a coin.” He grabs his jacket from behind the bar. “Let’s roll.”

“You don’t want to see how this turns out?”

Dean shrugs as Charlie starts hollering that she’ll arm wrestle him for it as Kevin loudly says Garth could take her, something Garth seems to think is sweet. “Nah. Seems like they’ll figure it out.”

“How did you find this place?” Castiel asks as they walk through the streets of the city.

“I’ve just started walking and looking for restaurants.” Dean’s got his hands shoved in the pockets of his favorite jacket. He doesn’t wear his big leather jacket anymore, even up here. The relationship with his father, Castiel knows, is still thorny and complicated, and he thinks that wearing something of his father’s is probably too much to deal with. His favorite jacket is a good look on him, however, so Castiel certainly isn’t complaining. “Checking out places that are uh, brunchy, you know? I like breakfast, I like lunch, I figure it’s a winning combination.”

Dean stops at a sizable place that may be nicer than any of the eateries they’ve stopped at previously. Castiel wants to rib Dean somewhat over the fact that this may be the first time he’s seen a cloth napkin, but he lets it go at how pleased Dean looks.

“There’s a table.”

They settle into a booth, sitting across from each other in the high-backed section. “Of course there’s a table.”

“Yeah, but it’s still exciting, you know? I mean, how long would we have to wait at a place like this normally? _Forever._ ” Dean looks around with a grin. “It’s _awesome._ ”

It’s beautiful, Castiel thinks, to see Dean marvel at the everyday realities of heaven. It suddenly occurs to him for the first time that this may be how Dean felt watching him adjust to Earth. He wonders if that would explain the amused softness he thought he’d caught glimpses of every now and again.

Dean sprawls out against the booth, pulling on a menu and oblivious to Castiel’s recent revelation. “It’s nice here, isn’t it? Started swinging by on my lunch break.”

“I have trouble picturing you eating anything but burgers.”

“I’m getting out there, man, trying new things, new experiences.” He looks up at Castiel over the menu. “And the amount of burgers that you ate during that whole thing with Famine pretty much permanently excludes you from talking shit about me and burgers.”

“That was _years-_ “

Dean holds up a finger. “Permanently. Excludes you.”

Castiel surveys the menu. It seems to be pretty standard brunch fare. “What do you get?”

“Smoked salmon eggs benedict, calamari with greens, and a lemonade,” Dean answers promptly.

“You’re eating green things that isn’t sandwiched between meat.” Castiel continues inspecting the menu to hide the slight upturn to his lips. “It’s the end of days again.”

There’s silence on Dean’s end long enough that Castiel worries he’s overstepped when there’s a sharp shot to his ankle. “ _Ow!”_ He looks up to see a triumphant Dean, grinning and looking entirely too pleased on his part. “Did you just kick me?”

“Who, me?” Dean asks smugly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Castiel squints at him and then abruptly kicks him back. Dean jumps and for a few seconds there’s an undignified round of kicking between the two of them until Dean goes “ow, _ow,_ alright, I give, I give”. Castiel rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, and looks at the bustling restaurant, unable to keep himself from grinning.

“What are _you_ getting then, smartass?” Dean asks, sounding a little out of breath. Castiel wouldn’t think that it would have winded him so much but he feels perhaps another jab like that is unwise.

“I’ll get whatever it is you get.”

Castiel can _hear_ the eyeroll in his voice. “What, no sense of adventure?”

“I trust your instincts.”

“Mistake,” Dean mumbles.

Castiel looks back at him. “Never.”

Dean flushes and it distracts Castiel for a second. They stare at each other.

Dean clears his throat, pushing the menu at him. “I’m serious, man, you should try something else. We’ll split the calamari. You get to broaden your tastes too, you know.”

Castiel sighs but takes the menu, peering at it.

“I will get a grilled skirt steak with eggs,” he says finally. “And a mimosa.”

“Alright then, was that so hard?”

“It was extremely trying, yes.”

“This is… very good.”

Dean grins down at his lemonade, now empty, simply poking at the ice with his straw. “I told you.”

Castiel takes a bite of his eggs. “ _You_ told me that I should expand my palate. You did not say, specifically, that this would be good.”

“Pain in the ass. Alright, fine, but I’m still taking that as a win on my part.” Dean pushes the glass to the side. “Should have made us more steak and eggs down at the bunker.”

Castiel delicately rests his fork and knife by his plate and looks across the restaurant at the other people, cheerfully enjoying their breakfast. “You can make us steak and eggs now, if you want.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice is quiet and soft in a way that makes Castiel determinedly stare at the restaurant for longer than is probably necessary. “Guess so.”

They’re quiet now, and Castiel serenely soaks up the moment. A sunny day streaming through the window, the sound of people enjoying their breakfast, and Dean.

“So were you okay?” Dean asks abruptly, and he returns his attention to him.

“What?”

“I mean. You know. After-“ he waves a hand. “Were you okay?”

“I… don’t remember any of my time in the Empty.” Castiel rests his hands by his sides, trying not to fidget. Fidgeting is not one of his favorite human habits that he’s picked up. He feels that it’s telling. “None of us do. Jack offered each of us to restore it but I believe we… all thought this was best. And then…” He shrugs. “Then I was working. And I wasn’t quite… okay, but I was working.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

“Were you okay?”

“I mean.” He blows all the air out of his cheeks. “No. And yeah. I was getting into the swing of things, you know? Got my dog, got a job at a mechanic’s. Was gonna… go straight. Everything was still hard and there was still, y’know.” He glances into the restaurant himself. “Was still shit I was processing. But light at the end of the tunnel, right? Just a goal or something. And then, y’know. It’s jarring.”

Castiel thinks about apologizing once more, but he thinks it will probably devolve into him and Dean kicking each other again. Instead, he opts for truth. “I’m more okay now that we’re speaking again.”

Dean looks thrown and then gives him one of those grins so wide it baffles Castiel that it all fits on his face.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me, too.” He stands up and Castiel follows him in the motion. “I feel like dessert. You got any bright ideas?”

Castiel considers. “I know of a restaurant that offers nineteen different kinds of cannoli.”

“Oh, _hell_ yes.” The two of them head for the door. Castiel walks a little closer to Dean’s side than normal. If Dean notices, he doesn’t try and put space between them. “They got any with hazelnuts? I fucking _love_ hazelnuts, dude.”

Castiel is out for a walk with Jack, musing as they wander through some mountains. Jack is experimenting with hiking, and mostly he does that with Sam but Castiel had offered today, needing some time to think.

He’s changing, up here. He can feel it. But it’s not the change he’s associated with heaven previously. It’s good change. He feels lighter. Better. He smiles a little wider. He laughs more. As he finds more joy, he is realizing, he is seeking further change, in little steps.

“I think new clothes are in order,” Castiel says decisively, and Jack brightens up, pausing on the trail and turning to him.

“This is a good idea.”

He’s a little startled by Jack’s enthusiasm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve been watching a lot of _Queer Eye._ ” Jack shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know anything about the process but I’m just excited to be here.”

“There’s not going to be any-“ Castiel feels the impulse to pull on the reins very quickly. “There’s not going to be any Queer Eyeing, Jack, I just want new clothes.”

“That’s something of a relief. I think I would be a poor Jonathan van Ness.” Castiel opens his mouth to reassure Jack that he would be an excellent Jonathan van Ness, whoever that may be, but Jack keeps going. “What kinds of clothes do you want?”

“Nothing… fancy? Perhaps a jean.”

“Let’s go to the mall.”

“There’s a mall?”

“There’s always a mall.”

“I don’t want to interrupt our day-“

“This’ll be more fun! I know you’re not enjoying this anyway.”

Castiel grimaces. He’s definitely not a hiker. “Yes. Well. Fair enough.”

Jack cheerfully slides his arm through Castiel’s and takes a step, and suddenly they’re in a nice, clean mall with lots of windows and stores, bustling with people.

“Did you build this?”

“I did.” Jack looks extremely satisfied, like he does whenever they come across a section of heaven he built. “I’ve been told teenagers like malls. Come on. There’s a Penney’s in here. It’s where we went when I was first getting my clothes.”

It’s a fairly large Penney’s, and Castiel stands there for a moment, just stumped.

“Well,” Jack says, with a tone that suggests he is attempting a low key Queer Eye and not entirely sure how to go about it. “What do you like to wear? What makes you happy? Or feel good?”

“I’ve… been wearing the same thing more or less for twelve or thirteen years.”

“Okay, well.” Jack considers. “Ignore the _what do you like to wear_ portion of the question. That’s out. What are clothes you like?”

“I like…” he thinks it over, what he most associates involving comfort and home. “I like what Sam and Dean wear. But I think something a little… different? I want less… flannel. Some flannel. But less flannel.”

“Why don’t you walk through the store? I’ll see if I can find you a section with appropriate graphic tees.”

Jack walks off and Castiel begins to wander through the store. He would have vaguely expected everything to be something that would specifically cater to him, but perhaps that would be boring. He picks up a few pairs of jeans and a few pairs of regular black pants. Jack returns with an armful of graphic tee shirts and pushes him towards a fitting room. He discards some things without trying them on, tries some things on and immediately discards them. The outfit he settles on is a pair of jeans that fit him nicely, a Led Zeppelin shirt that advertises what he presumes was a tour and not simply promoting America and the year 1977, and a black corduroy jacket unbuttoned over it. He squints at the getup and looks at himself in the mirror.

It feels… right. Something like right, anyway. He supposes he can mix and match clothes however he likes. It seems a little exhausting. He wonders how humanity does it. But he’s willing to try.

“Penney’s, huh?” He hears a familiar voice say distantly. “Man, _loved_ their deals on band shirts. I used to come here to take Sammy when he needed new clothes when we were kids, when we had that kind of cash.”

Castiel blinks, startled. “Dean?”  
“Cas?” Dean sounds just as thrown as him. Castiel emerges from the fitting room to stare at Dean, who’s handing a jacket to Jack, who doesn’t look at all surprised.

“I called Dean while you were looking for things because I forgot my jacket at his house,” he tells Castiel cheerfully. “I like that look on you! You look-“ Jack waves a hand vaguely. “I dunno, like you’re more… at home… in your skin?”

Castiel smiles at him, trying to keep it fond and not so much amused. “I think that’s a very good Queer Eye, Jack.”

“Thank you.” Jack looks at Dean. “What do you think?”

Castiel looks to turn to see that Dean has gone a little pink, staring at him. He clears his throat.

“Yeah,” Dean manages, sounding a little hoarse. “Yeah, you look good, Cas.”

Castiel feels the tips of his ears redden somewhat. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Jack turns to Dean. “Meg asked me to take a look at one of the walls and see if it’s fully come down, she has some concerns. Will you stay here and help Castiel?”

“You don’t have to ask him to-“ Castiel says at the same time Dean goes “whoa, I don’t want to take away from your time with-“

“The matter is important. And you have a good eye. You helped me pick out all of my clothes.”

“You had one specific thing you liked, kid, it wasn’t hard.”

“Regardless.” Jack settles his jacket in his arms. “Castiel, would you like him to stay?”

Dean and Castiel stare at each other, a pair of deer caught in the headlights.

“Yes,” Castiel finally allows to be pulled out of him. “I would like that very much. If Dean would like it.”

“I, uh. I could, um, I could help.”

“Then it’s settled.” He holds his hand up in his wave. “Goodbye!”

Jack vanishes and both Dean and Castiel squint at the space where he was.

“Kid’s up to something,” Dean says abruptly.

“He is _definitely_ up to something.”

“I don’t think he even left his jacket at my house, dude, I don’t think I saw it until he called me asking about it.” He folds his arms. “You think this is the kinda something we gotta worry about it?”

“I think it’s the kind of something we let be a something until we know more about the something.”

“Hey, Cas, say _something_ one more time.”

Castiel glowers at Dean. “ _Something._ ”

Dean grins and looks out across the racks of clothes.

“So what, what is this?” he asks. “What are we looking at here?”

“I’ve grown tired of ties and button ups.”

“Only took you twelve years.”

Castiel ignores that. “I am seeking out graphic tees and Henleys. Jack insists I would look poorly in a polo and I’ve agreed to abstain from them.”

“Okay, well, that’s a starting point.” Dean takes a step back and shakes his head. “Man. It is _weird_ to see you in jeans, dude.”

“If you think they look-“

“No! No, they’re, uh. They’re good. They look good.”

Castiel shifts from foot to foot a little. “Thank you.” A thought occurs to him and he points at Dean. “You may only judge my shirts on how they look and not the music they represent.”

Dean groans. “Cas-“

“No. Your reticence to embrace any sort of music that came out after 1989 fails to be my problem.”

“I’m just saying-“

“I don’t care.” Castiel heads back to the fitting room. “I know you listen to Taylor Swift anyway, Dean, you’re not permitted to throw any stones.”

“I wish Sam hadn’t told you that!” Dean calls, and Castiel smiles a very little smile.

Castiel looks at himself in the mirror in frustration.

He’s tried on several outfits and something about them has always been off. He hasn’t been able to figure out what, but he’s looked in the mirror and known something wasn’t right. Perhaps this was a mistake. The previous outfit hadn’t felt right, either, but at least he knew why.

“Cas!”

He readjusts the tee shirt. Doesn’t do anything to fix it, even if he likes the shirt itself quite a bit. “Yes?”

“Come out here, I got an idea.”

Castiel exits the fitting room. Dean is holding onto a jacket he must have gone and found while he was cycling through outfits he didn’t want to leave the fitting room in.

“First of all,” Dean says. “You have terrible taste in music.”

Castiel scowls, tugging on his Love You to Death shirt. “Dean-“

He holds up his hands. “That’s it. That’s all I’ve got to say on it. I’ll be good now. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a Scout.”

“I could’ve been. Isn’t knife skills a requirement? Anyway, I think this is gonna work.” Dean holds up the jacket in his hands. It’s tan, with four pockets, two on each side of the jacket. “Give me the one you’re wearing now.”

Castiel hands the black corduroy jacket over and tugs on the one Dean’s offering.

“See, it’s tan, so it’s kinda like the color of your old coat, so when you look in the mirror you’ll see something familiar, and that’ll ground you a little more, and you like familiar, right? It’s why you wore the same stuff for so long. And it’s a little bit loose, cause you liked the freedom of movement with the trench coat, and I, I made sure the pockets are deeper than they even could be down on Earth cause you always like being able to shove tons of stuff in your pockets.”

Castiel blinks, looking up at him in surprise as he adjusts the jacket. Dean flushes, shrugging a little. “I know you, man.”

“Yes. I know.” He does. It’s still a little dizzying to see it in person. He looks down at the jacket. It fits perfectly. He sticks his hands in his pockets. They’re the right amount of deep. The color is so close to his old coat. “Dean, it’s perfect.”

“You haven’t seen it in the mirror yet.”

“I don’t have to.” All the other outfits click into place looking down at this one. Everything else is going to fit now. It’s like seeing a new version of himself. One he likes. “This is it.” He looks up at him. “Thank you.”

Dean grins. “No problem.” He puts the black corduroy jacket on a nearby table where it promptly vanishes. “You know what I say, every twelve years it’s time to change what I wear.”

“You’ve worn flannel and band shirts from when I’ve known you into death, Dean.”

“I.” He opens his mouth, closes it, and frowns. “Shut up, Cas.”

Castiel smiles and heads back to the fitting room to get his clothes in the shopping bags. He hefts them on the way out and Dean takes a couple.

“Where are you even going to put these?” Dean asks as they walk out of the store. “Do you have a place to store them?”

“I… hadn’t really gotten that far.” This is something he should have thought of. Can he just build a closet for himself somewhere?

“You could-“ Dean clears his throat a little. “You could store them at my place.” Castiel blinks, giving him a startled look, and he gives a little shrug. “I mean, if you want to. I’ve got space.”

He’s not sure why he’s so touched by this, but he knows that he is. “I would like that. Thank you.”  
Dean shrugs awkwardly again. “No problem.”

They take a step and they’re on Dean’s front porch, Dean pushing the door open as best he can with the bags in his hands. The two of them head up the staircase and Dean leads Castiel to a little room that they had missed when he gave him the tour, having casually said “there’s just stuff in there, don’t worry about it”. He opens up the door and Castiel steps inside.

It’s a small room with pale sea green walls and a large window, a white comfortable looking chair positioned by it. There’s a small bookcase up against the wall with copies of mystery novels by authors he loves, and a little table with a small stack of them. There’s shelves waiting to be filled with something, and a little closet in the corner, a dresser right next to it.

“Did you…” Castiel says slowly, turning in a small corner. “Did you make this room for me?”

Dean rests the bags down on the floor so he can awkwardly rub the back of his head. “Yeah, well, you know, I just added the closet as soon as we hit the porch, so that’s new, but, uh, I know you like mystery books, even though you figure them out pretty quick, so I thought it’d be good to have those in here. And the table and shelves, you know, you’ve talked before about wanting to learn how to do things with your hands, and I figure whatever you wanted to learn, you’d have a space to do it. And look-“ Dean walks up to the window and gestures outside it. “There’s marigolds in that bed down there, and peonies, chive flowers and some mint, which I thought would be good cause then I could use them to cook with, too, just a whole bunch of flowers, and there’s a chair right by the window near it downstairs, too, so there’s a better view, but from here I figured if you wanted to read a book, you know, you could look down every once in a while and you could see the bees, cause the bees like those. And over here-“ He points at one of the shelves which holds a record player that Castiel had missed on the first look. “I thought you could have that to play your tunes, you know, if you wanted to listen to them while you were reading. I didn’t pick any of the music for you, I know you like your stuff and I’m not the greatest judge of what that is, so.” Dean shoves his hands in his pockets, looking extremely awkward. “I thought it could be good for you to have your own space when you’re around, you know?”

Castiel drops the bags of clothes and strides forwards, colliding with Dean in a hug. Dean takes a few surprised steps back but then returns the hug just as warmly, squeezing Castiel tight. He presses his face into the juncture between Dean’s neck and his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers back, wrapping his arms around him so tightly that one of them comes up to rest lightly against the back of his shoulder. “You’re welcome, Cas.”

It’s more than he ever expected. More than he ever thought he’d deserve. It’s overwhelming, a little bit, the whole of heaven narrowed down to this one room, and this one man, in this one moment.

After what isn’t really long enough but feels like the right amount of time, Castiel pulls back, trying to pretend his eyes aren’t wet.

“I’ll put my clothes away,” he says hoarsely.

“I’ll make us some dinner.” Dean disappears out the door and Castiel heads to the record player. He pulls out a copy of the Bleachers MTV Unplugged album, sets it up, and starts pulling his clothes out of his bags.

Life settles into a routine for Castiel.

The time that Dean spends at the Roadhouse is up for grabs. Sometimes Castiel swings by for lunch and the two of them hang out at the bar while he eats a burger. Most of the time he spends it with other people. Eileen is intent on teaching him how to ski, something he is doing his best with. He and Sam go out jogging. He and Jack go out shopping or watch television together. He sees Charlie. He sees Meg.

Jack likes for them all to spend time together, so sometimes the four of them go to Jack’s park, Sam still uninterested in using the swings, Jack and Dean still trying to see who can go higher. Sometimes Castiel is out with Jack and they run into Dean, sometimes it’s vice versa. However, often when Dean is out of the Roadhouse, the two of them spend their time together. Dean will hang out in Castiel’s room reading magazines about cars while Cas reads one of his mystery books. Castiel will sit on a chair in the garage and they’ll chat while Dean works on the Impala. They cook together. They go for drives together.

They still haven’t talked about it. It still aches in Castiel’s chest, that they haven’t discussed what’s been said, that he doesn’t well and truly know how Dean feels. But he could do this the rest of eternity, he thinks, even around not having talked about it. Just himself, his family, and Dean.

That’s all he truly ever wanted, anyway.

“I’m thinking about setting up a DND game,” Charlie says, her feet up on the table in her little house. Meg is sprawled out on the couch, watching a telenovela. “Would you be interested?”

“I… suppose I would be willing to give it a shot.”

Charlie grins. “Dean said yes immediately and he’s _so_ into it.”

“Yes. I know.” Castiel had come back to the house at one point to see Dean at the dining room table with books about Dungeons and Dragons stacked next to him, carefully taking notes and mumbling things about classes to himself.

“I’m not playing,” Meg says from the couch, not looking at either of them.

“It’s cause she’s no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun.”

“Jack’s gonna play, too.” Charlie takes a sip of her smoothie. “I’m excited. I just gotta rope Sam into it. When’s Dean’s shindig?”

“Two days.” Castiel swirls his little cardboard stick in his coffee. “He’s spent the last few days rifling through cookbooks and picking out appropriate foods. He keeps asking my opinion even though I know nothing about barbecues.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.”

Castiel smiles down at his coffee. “It’s nice that Jack stops by.”

“He likes Meg. It’s kind of funny. She doesn’t know what to do with it.”

“I know what to do with everything.”

“I’m sure he likes you, too, Charlie.”

Charlie perks up. “He does! We hang out, we watch Disney movies. It’s great! A little popcorn, some _Parent Trap,_ some _Snow White_ , we’re gonna go to the _Star Wars_ sequel trilogy next, he’s already seen _The Clone Wars_ , which, don’t get me _started_ on how it’s a Disney property now _-_ “

Castiel frowns. “Why would one feel the need to trap one’s parents? Is this a monster situation? It doesn’t feel family friendly.”

“No, it’s this movie, well, two movies, there’s the original and the remake, but it’s about these kids who were separated at birth by their parents and the kids spend the movie trying to invent reasons for their parents to spend time together so they get together and get married again. It’s actually a pretty fucked up movie for a kids movie if you ask me, but no monsters.”

Castiel slowly lowers his tea, staring at her.

It had been quite coincidental, ultimately, that he’d run into Jack and Dean in the Impala that first time. And ultimately, a little strange that Jack had asked Dean to meet him at the mall. And really, how many little times has he run into Dean unexpectedly while out with Jack?

Charlie looks, abruptly, like someone who has just remembered she was not supposed to tell someone something.

“Oh, boy,” she whispers.

Meg cackles from the couch, turning her telenovela down and looking at them properly for the first time.

“I mean, uh, _totally_ about monsters! Lots of monsters. One of them eats Lindsay Lohan, it’s _super_ fucked up-“

Castiel holds up a hand. “Please stop.”

“No, Charlie, keep going.” Meg leans forwards. “Dig yourself out of this hole.”

“Well, it’s, it’s _sweet_ , Cas! And I just wanna say, it was not _entirely_ my idea, he just asked what sorts of movies might-“

Castiel stands. “I need to go speak with Jack.”

“You should, um, you should also tell him that I’m sorry.”

“Castiel.”

Castiel blinks, a little startled by his real name from Meg.

“Get your shit together.” She returns her attention to the telenovela. “Everybody’s just tired of this. And don’t give Jack too hard a time. Charlie, come watch this with me, you’re gonna get behind.”

Castiel is a little thrown, but gives a short nod that she can’t see, and takes a step.

Castiel appears in a rustle of wings to Jack, who’s sitting on the park bench reading a book that appears to be a _Star Wars_ novelization of some kind.

“Are you ‘Parent Trap’ing me and Dean?” he says without preamble.

Jack looks up from his book.

“No,” he says. “That would suggest that the two of you are divorced. I did watch the movie with Charlie to try and get tips. Have you seen it? It’s very sad. These parents divvy up their children-“

Castiel throws his hands up. “Jack-“

“This is very simple,” Jack says, a little loudly. “If it wasn’t simple before, it is now. I have gotten outside confirmation from Charlie and Meg and Sam and Mary and Mom and Gabriel-“

“Oh, _please_ don’t be talking to-“

“That this is very simple. And that you two just don’t want to deal with it. Because Sam told me about how when I was dead the two of you gave each other the silent treatment for a while cause you weren’t communicating properly and this is like that except now you like each other.”

It is… an uncomfortably apt comparison, at its bones. Castiel sits down. “It’s not that easy.”

“ _Yes._ It _is._ And it’s that easy _especially_ because you can _see_ it by now, can’t you? You know.”

“I don’t-“

“You _know,_ ” Jack repeats with emphasis. “You know it. You know how he feels. You’re just scared to talk about it.”

Castiel bristles. “I’m not _scared_.”

“You’re _both_ scared.” Jack puts his book in his lap and folds his arms. “I’m gonna call Meg and Charlie in on this. Can I call them my aunts?”  
Castiel thinks Meg may have a stroke at _Aunt Meg_ and really, at this point, she deserves it for the _everybody’s tired of this_ line. “Go for it.”

“The backup thing or the-“

“The aunt thing.”

“Oh. Well. I still might do the other thing.”

“You should… probably ask them about the aunt thing before you refer to them as such.”

“I will.”

Castiel looks at the ground. He does know, is the thing. He can see it in the act of asking him if he’s okay at brunch. He can see it in finding him the coat. He can see it in building him the room. But as much as he may have spoken to the happiness being in the being, there is a great deal of fear in the asking. Because maybe he’s wrong. Maybe he’s misread the whole thing.

But he won’t know if he never says something.

“You know,” he mutters. “The ball really is in Dean’s-“

“ _DAD,_ ” Jack says loudly, and Castiel jumps, staring at him, his chest tightening.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever-“ he says hoarsely.

“I required emphasis and attention.” Jack is scowling and it’s the most he’s ever reminded Castiel of a teenager.

Castiel swallows.

“Next couple days,” he says. “I promise. I’ll talk to him in the next couple days.”

“Good.” Jack picks his book back up. “ _Heir to the Empire_ is very good, by the way. I appreciate Charlie’s recommendation. I think she’d like being an Aunt Charlie.”

“Yes. Me, too.”

It’s been a busy day. Castiel’s accompanied Dean on trips to the butchers where he dithered over meats, gone with him to the grocery store as he dithered over the right potatoes for potato salad. He’s helped him pick out tablecloths for the long tables the food will go on, he’s put up a fence in the backyard because Dean insists that a fence is right for the barbecue. He’s helped and worked with Dean all day, thinking _today I will ask about it. today I will do it. today after the barbecue. today when things have wound down. today I will talk about it._

It’s terrifying, and he tries to bury the thoughts as best he can while Dean mumbles about the benefits of fresh dill for the potato salad versus dried dill, weighing them each in his hands in the grocery store.

Castiel joins Dean out on the front porch with a lemonade after they run their errands, settling comfortably into the wooden chair to the right of Dean. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

The two of them sit on the chairs and look out at the sky. It’s nice every day, but it’s especially nice today, a brilliant blue shot with a couple clouds, Castiel assumes because that’s the way Dean would have liked the sky today.

“Wasn’t sure who was supposed to talk about it first,” Dean says eventually, not taking his eyes off the sky.

Castiel blinks, thrown. “What?”

“I wasn’t sure which of us was supposed to talk about it first. But neither of us are talking about it, so I guess one of us has to square up.”

Castiel hesitates, then slowly puts his beer down on the little table in between them, stomach clenching.

“I had the last word,” he says. “I believe that would have left it up to you.”

Dean snorts, clearly amused. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

“I don’t think there’s space to argue with me about this one, Dean.”

“Yeah, but, I think I’ve done my part here, Cas, I took you on a date and asked you to move your stuff into my house.”

Castiel opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Those are… good points. But I’m maintaining mine as well. Not to mention I took _you_ on a date after yours.”

“I. Well. Yeah, okay. The ball’s still… kinda in my court.”

They’re both quiet again, Castiel struggling to decide if he should say something, until Dean looks at him, his face much calmer than he would have expected, and points his bottle at him.

“This is the thing that pisses me off about you sometimes,” he says thoughtfully.

Whatever way Castiel was expecting it to go, it wasn’t this. “…yes?”

“The thing that pisses me off about you is that you are just so… _singleminded_.”

He frowns. “This is a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I’m _stubborn_ , not _singleminded_. There’s a _difference._ ”

“You are most _definitely-_ “

“The _point_ is,” Dean cuts in loudly. “That you get _tunnel vision._ You just, you get so convinced of something that you think there’s no other way to it.”

Castiel snorts. “Now you’re _really-_ “

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me get to my point?” There’s no rancor in Dean’s voice, not even a hint that he’s really pissed about any of this. Which Castiel knew, anyway. Dean’s easy to read. He clamps his mouth shut and waits, but tries to adopt a look on his face that suggests Dean is not allowed to give him shit for something _that is so obviously something Dean also does_.

“So you just convinced yourself that there was just, there was something you couldn’t have. And it never occurred to you to ask.”

The world grinds to a halt.

“What would have happened,” Castiel asks, keeping his voice steady through sheer force of will. “If I had asked?”

Dean grins at him. “You’d have gotten an answer.”

He fights to keep the smile off his face.

“It’s a great tragedy of my life that you think you’re funny,” he says.

“Can’t rank _that_ high on the list.”

Castiel mulls it over.

“ _You_ could have asked,” he finally says. “So that can piss me off about you, you know.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs. “Doesn’t actually piss me off.”

“I know.” He resists the urge to fidget in his lap. “It doesn’t piss me off, either. You just liked the lead-in.”

He smiles a little. “Yeah. I did.”

“Were you angry when it happened?”

“Uh.” Dean looks a little sheepish. “Yeah. Yeah, I was. Mostly sad. I was, uh. I was a wreck.”

“Yes. Sam mentioned.”

He shrugs a little again. “Now I’m not. Everything’s got a little-“ he waves a little. “Perspective, now.”

“You could have brought it up, you know.”

Dean grins, looking back at the sky. “You waited to tell me you loved me until you never had to deal with the repercussions, man, you don’t get to give me shit about avoiding anything _ever._ ”

It’s _easy._ It’s so easy. This conversation, the implications, it’s so much easier than Castiel would have expected, and even if Dean’s so calm he knows it’s the same feeling for him, too, the quiet relief. “That’s not why I did it, you know.”

“Yeah, Cas. I know. I, uh. It wouldn’t have been the reason I told you, either, if it was me.” Dean puts his beverage down on the table and they look out at the sky, something in Castiel’s chest doing very strange things.

“When?” he asks.

“Purgatory,” Dean answers instantly. “Thought I was going out of my mind. I was just…” he clears his throat. “Just needed you back. I knew we didn’t have much left time to live and I was just… was prepared to die out there so long as you were with me.”

Castiel swallows. All these little human tics he picked up on Earth to associate with emotions. The butterflies in his stomach. Ridiculous.

“What about you?”  
“I… don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“No. I don’t know. Something… changed, after Samhain.”

“Samhain?”

“You were… unflinching in your willingness to lay down your life for that town. You didn’t hesitate. You were willing to stand toe to toe with an angel to save the lives of a thousand people in exchange for your own. Things changed more further down the road. I don’t know what the exact moment when things got deeper was. But that’s where it started.”

Dean blows all the air out of his cheeks.

“Wow,” he says, voice a little choked. “I was really behind the times, huh?”

“Yes, well.” Castiel grins at him. “If I knew self-sacrifice was the sort of thing you made a habit of, perhaps it would have been a different moment.”

Dean laughs a little wetly. “Shut up.”

“I like that you’re selfless.”

“I know.” Dean drums his hand on his knee before he rests it on the arm of his chair. “I’m no good at this, Cas. It never comes out right.”

“Well. Now I know… what the intent behind the words are. So I can. I can wait.”

He nods, keeping his eyes on the sky. Castiel thinks it’s easier for him that way. He can’t blame him.

“I.” He sounds unsteady and clears his throat. “I, uh. I thought a lot about what I would’ve said, down there, if I’d had time. Any time, just a little time. And I knew then, but I don’t really know now. So I just. Fuck, Cas, it’s just.”

Castiel lets himself chase the impulse and reaches out to take Dean’s hand. Dean doesn’t jump but instead twines their fingers together. There’s something secure about it. He wishes he’d done it before now.

“You see me,” he says, voice clearer now. “I feel like… I’m seen, when I’m with you, more than anyone I’ve ever really met before. And it scared the shit out of me, you know? I didn’t think I wanted to be seen. And eventually I realized that I… liked being seen by you cause you’re… you. Cause, Cas, you’re always _trying_ to do the right thing. I mean, hell, we’ve all done some bad shit, but you still just… believe so strongly that there’s a right thing. You throw yourself in the path of danger over and over for the right thing and don’t get me wrong, I don’t like that martyr bullshit in you any more than you like it in me, but the impulse is just. What makes you you. I think you’re good. I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, but I think you’re good on your own, too. You just… you just glow with it, you know? And I always wondered, _then what the hell is he doing with me?_ But now I maybe… don’t think that anymore. Cause of you. I could’ve killed Chuck, you know? Chuck _wanted_ me to kill him. And maybe if I was a kid, you know, when Dad died, when I made the deal for Sam, maybe I would’ve. But I realized that I just… wasn’t that man. And that’s cause of you. You changed me, too, Cas, and I just-“ he looks down at his lap and squeezes his eyes closed. “You can have me.”

Castiel squeezes his hand.

“You can have me, too,” he whispers.

Dean nods and looks back out at the sky. Castiel thinks it’s funny that his body thinks it has a heartbeat and that he can feel it pounding.

“Just a couple of idiots,” Dean says eventually. “Crying on a porch.”

Castiel chokes out a laugh, looking to the right of him, away from Dean. “Yes, well. Heaven can’t fix stupid.”

“S’good. Who would we be if we had no stupid left?”

“Just remnants.”

“This is the something Jack was up to, by the way.”

“Oh my god.” Dean laughs, still a little wetly. “Kid was _so_ trying to Parent Trap us.”

“You knew?”

“Figured it out a couple days ago.” He shakes his head. “Fucking kid.” There’s nothing even close to animosity in his tone, however. Only amusement and love.

They sit in peace, holding onto each other’s hand.

“How long til the barbecue starts?” Castiel asks.

“Few hours. Everybody can make it.”

“Did you remember that you’ll require veggie burgers for Kevin?”  
“ _Yes._ ” Dean rolls his eyes. “Sign of how much I like that kid that I’m willing to put a veggie burger on my grill.”

“Yes,” Castiel says dryly. “You’re a real martyr. I’ll stop by one of the saints’ heavens and let them know.”

“Alright, enough out of you, wiseass.” Dean looks around a little. “Think it should rain tomorrow. What do you think?”

“I like the rain. We could stay in.”

Dean’s grin grows at the _we._ “Yeah. Don’t see why not. I’m going to get a snack. You want anything?”

“No. Thank you.”

Dean stands and takes a few steps before Castiel reaches out to tug on his shirt and pulls him down for a kiss. The vaguely startled noise Dean makes is sort of adorable, and Castiel can hear him trying to regain his balance from the couple stumbling steps he takes. Eventually, though, he fumbles to rest a hand against Castiel’s neck, and Castiel smiles.

When Castiel lets go of Dean’s shirt and opens his eyes, Dean is a surprising and somewhat endearing shade of pink.

“Jesus, Cas,” he manages. “Give a guy some warning.”

Castiel grins at him. “Why?”

He turns an even deeper shade of pink and points at him. “You, you are-“ he shakes his head. “You are going to be a _problem._ ”

Dean heads back into the house and Castiel stands, walking up to lean on the porch railing. The sunlight sparkles off the lake, and he thinks how nice it’ll be tomorrow, when the rain blurs the surface of it. Soon, he and Dean will have to prepare for the evening. Dean is going to show him the right way to make the potato salad, and pretend he’s not dithering about whether or not there’s a right way to stack the paper plates. He and Dean will set up the backyard shortly and when everyone arrives, the grass will not be trampled. The barbecue could be all set up on its own, but Dean likes to do it, and Castiel doesn’t mind it himself.

Dean returns with a small sack of honey roasted peanuts and comes to lean against the railing with him. Castiel reaches out and takes a couple.

“Dude,” Dean says through a mouthful. “You said you weren’t hungry.”

“I lied.”

“You don’t even need to eat.”

“Neither do you. And besides, I like to eat.”

“Whatever. You just like to eat _my_ stuff.”

“It certainly helps.”

Tomorrow the rain will fall, light or hard, depending on a whim. Maybe they’ll read. Maybe they’ll bake. Maybe Dean will insist on a _Star Trek_ marathon. Maybe he’ll go into the garage and work on the Impala while Castiel sits on the porch in one of the chairs and watches the storm come in. Tomorrow can be anything. The day after that and after that and after that will be anything, for the rest of days.

“Hey.” Dean nudges him with his shoulder. “You in there? What’re you thinking about?”

He smiles, looking out at the look.

“I’m thinking about thunder,” Cas answers.

**Author's Note:**

> Posting Supernatural fanfiction in the Year Of Our Lord Anno Domini 2021. My goodness gracious. Seventeen year old Ocean WISHES she had what I have.
> 
> I wrote this because I was like "well there's got to be some way that the finale works". And it still doesn't! But I had fun. I also have part of Dean's POV on this written out that I'll post as a second chapter if I ever finish it, and if I ever decide "no, I don't think I'm actually going to finish this", then I will at least post the scene from that fic where Dean is like "oh holy shit you don't like my dad" and Cas is like "...yeah" cause I like the aesthetic of it and also dunking on John Winchester (it also contains that time Cas took Dean out on a date that was referenced at the end of this). I also put a LOT of thought into this fic and actually have a whole document of my thought processes that I wrote as I edited to get it out of my head, and I think it's probably a little self centered to post it, but if you have any questions about this fic, I will probably have an answer! I'm @ cosmicoceanfic on tumblr.
> 
> Anyway, I compiled a shit ton of references for this, so here is pretty much everything referenced in this that I used as a reference. The house is a mashup of a farmhouse but with a Victorian house porch, because the third thing I wrote for this story was the scene on the porch at the end, and I knew I needed him to have this specific kind of porch for it.
> 
> [the song Charlie and Dean danced to in her heaven](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZ4D_th0j2o)
> 
> [the house](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/628463322989163642/)
> 
> [the color of the house](https://www.eggradients.com/color/maya-blue-color)
> 
> [the porch/a> ](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/434738170285462912/)  
>  [the garage](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/35606653293812595/)
> 
> [the kitchen](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1055599901603597/)
> 
> [the table](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/10485011622717550/)
> 
> [the zeppelin shirt](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/568016571758962307/)
> 
> [the corduroy jacket](https://www.macys.com/shop/product/charter-club-corduroy-button-down-jacket-created-for-macys?ID=9375861&CategoryID=120&isDlp=true)
> 
> [the album cover on Cas’s shirt](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/d/df/Tegan_and_Sara_-_Love_You_to_Death.png)
> 
> [the final coat](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/641692646900884698/)
> 
> [the color of Cas’s sitting room](https://www.colorhexa.com/dbfef8)


End file.
